Sublunary
by Cerise Tennyo
Summary: [AU] Does hope really shine brightest in the darkest hour? With Mahiru lost in a waking nightmare, the Lunar Race faces that question.[Updated through Ch. 10]
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: the characters and concepts of Crescent Moon/Mikan no Tsuki belong to Haruko Iida, Takamura Matsuda, TokyoPop, Kadokawa Ruby Teens Publishing, and probably many others who aren't me. I'm just a fan, writing for the entertainment of myself and other fans. No challenge to copyright is intended, and no profit has been made from this story.

Unofficial soundtrack: _Kojo-No-Tsuki_ (Yo-Yo Ma), _Heart of Mine _(Tempest), _Iris _(Goo-Goo Dolls)

**Sublunary**  
by Cerise Tennyo 

Mahiru swallowed a yawn as she set the last of the chairs on the table. Master Oboro let her work part-time during the week, but Saturdays saw her waiting tables and doing full-time clean-up the moment she came back from Saturday classes. She didn't really mindit felt more normal to work a regular job for her room and board than...well, being a reluctant part-time member of the Moonlight Bandits. 

She could hear the scuff of the broom as Akira began sweeping up. Glass chimed and rang softly as Misoka cleaned the bar area. Mahiru spotted a high-ball glass left on one of the tables and hurried to take it back into the kitchen. Mitsuru had dishes tonight, and she could just imagine his sneer when she walked in, as if she'd planned to hold back one tiny   
glass and give him more work. Though sneering might be better than the perpetual silence. _He still won't even look at me,_ she thought, crossing into the kitchen, _never mind speak to me._

She found both Mitsuru and Nozomu in the kitchen. The tengu stood with his back to her, loading the dishwasher. Nozomu sat on one of the cleared countertops, drinking a bottled soft drink. His elaborate stage gear looked limp as a wilting flower after a long night under the stage lights. He raised a hand to her in greeting, but seemed more intent on his thirst than speaking.

"Excuse me," she said, holding up the glass, "this was left out front."

Mitsuru barely glanced at her, just reached back for the glass. She let go a fraction too soon, and the glass crashed to the floor.

"Oh! Oh, darn it!" Mahiru cried, crouching down to pick up the pieces.

"Don't do that, stupid." Mitsuru snapped. "Get a broom, will you?"

He gestured, as if to wave her back. Mahiru drew back, knowing he hated to make any contact with her, overbalanced, and flung out a hand to catch herself. Her palm landed flat on one of the larger shards. She recoiled, crying out, landing smartly on her rear.

"My rotten luck," she moaned, turning her hand over. The shard had pricked her right in the center of her hand, bright smears of blood welling up around it. _Where I'm sure to break it open at least five times a day,_ she thought morosely. Wincing, she pinched the shard between her thumb and forefinger and drew it out like a splinter. _I don't even want to think  
how much it'll hurt going into the pool with this._

Distracted, she didn't hear anyone approach until a pair of strong hands closed around hers. She looked up, startled. "Nozomu!"

The vampire didn't reply. A tiny pool of blood had settled in the center of her palm. Mahiru felt her cheeks heat with an embarrassed flush. She hated having anyone worry over her. With luck as bad as hers, bruises and small nicks were the order of the day. She could wear people into threads worrying over her if she let them know every time she was injured. She tried to pull her hand away, fumbling for words that would avert his concern.

At once, Nozomu's grip tightened. She knew he was stronghadn't he held her with just one hand that night Mitsuru's winds had knocked her off the roof? But she wasn't in any danger now, why was heNozomu bowed his head over her hand, like something she'd seen in a TV drama. She felt something warm and wet press against the tiny wound.

_He's licking my hand!_ she thought, rigid with shock. She kept her hand stiff, not daring to pull away from the vampire. _It should hurt,_ she thought, a gentle haze beginning to sweep her mind. The ends of his blond hair brushed against her hand, silky soft, an unspoken invitation for her to touch, to cradle his head against her. His tongue felt a little like a cat's, only not so rough.

She felt a strange humming in her bones, almost like what she felt when a Teardrop of the Moon was nearby. _I hope I'm not going to start glowing again. _The thought seemed a distant worry. She felt much more inclined to relax, let the vampire do as he willed...he wasn't hurting her, it didn't hurt at all, in fact

_"NOZOMU!"_

Someone pulled the vampire away from her, and Mahiru gasped, feeling the abrupt snap of some unseen thread. Misoka had his hand curled in the collar of Nozomu's shirt, holding him back as if the vampire were a misbehaving dog. Nozomu's eyes gleamed night-hunter gold, though  
the rest of his body remained unchanged. Mahiru stared. In the past, when she'd seen the beginning of Nozomu's transformation, his eyes had always seemed distant, focused inward. Now, they remained fixed directly on her.

"I hope," Misoka said in the tone of voice he usually used with Mitsuru, "that you have a very good explanation for this."

"I'm sorry!" Mahiru apologized instantly. "I dropped a glass, and"

"I apologize, Princess." Misoka somehow managed to give the impression of bowing without ever once slackening his grip on Nozomu's collar. "My words were not meant for you." The glare the fox-demon turned on Nozomu could have singed concrete.

"It was an accident" Mahiru continued.

It was then Mahiru realized how crowded the kitchen had become: Akira stood in the doorway beside the pianist, staring wide-eyed. Mitsuru stood nearby, looking past them all, his jaw set and arms folded. The noise must have called them all in, Mahiru thought. It took a long moment for the concept to crystallize in her mind. Her gaze kept drifting back to Nozomu, but Misoka had put himself between Mahiru and the vampire. Somehow, the smaller fox-demon managed to block Mahiru's view entirely.

Sion squeezed past Akira, and moved into the kitchen. Mahiru blinked. Sion's image kept blurring in her sight. First, she saw Katsura, the curvy woman who played the piano and waited tables, then she saw the harder, leaner lines of the man she'd passed in the hallway. Strange, she thought, but it didn't seem worth getting worked up over. In fact, doing anything at all seemed far more trouble than it was worth.

"Princess," the pianist said, "please come with me, we need to take care of that wound."

Protesting seemed to require too much energy. Mahiru took the hand Sion offered her, managing to get to her feet. The others made way in silence, unusually solemn. Mahiru felt Nozomu's eyes on her back until the kitchen door swung closed, putting a physical barrier between them.

Time went soft and fuzzy on Mahiru then, as if a soothing warm mist had settled around her. As if from a great distance, she heard a series of muffled coughs, and wondered vaguely where they were coming from. It didn't seem important, and the thought slipped away from her almost as soon as it had formed. Letting her mind drift in this way seemed harmless. She could feel Katsura's grip on her arm, so she let the other steer her along. Her body knew how to move, when to step up or down. After a measureless time, Mahiru felt the mist lifting from her mind. Blinking, she looked around.

She recognized the small sitting room that Master Oboro kept just off of his private rooms. It was dark, except for a single lamp on a nearby table. She could feel the presence of the recovered Teardrops, almost see their light from the corner of her eye. Katsura stood before her, holding a first-aid kit in her hands. Mahiru fixed her gaze on Katsura, not wanting to become lost in the draw of the Teardrops. The odd double-vision wouldn't leave her. At last, she closed her eyes to ward off a headache.

The pianist took Mahiru's hand, examining the wound. "It doesn't look serious," she said at last. "I'll clean it out, then bandage it. It should heal up in no time."

It certainly sounded like Katsura, but Mahiru didn't quite feel up to testing her vision again. Something icy cold swept over her palm, and Mahiru shivered. The edges of the small wound began first to tingle, then to burn. She fought the urge to curl her fingers closed. She opened her eyes in time to see capable fingers taping a thick pad of gauze over the small wound.

"Are you feeling all right, Princess?" Katsura asked, winding a narrow strip of bandaging over Mahiru's palm.

Mahiru took a closer look. It certainly looked like Katsura, though she wasn't wearing her usual snug clothing. But hadn't the other one...? She shook her head.

"I feel confused!" Mahiru burst out. "What happened?"

Katsura finished bandaging Mahiru's hand, clipping the strip into place. "Nozomu is a bit of a flirt. I think...he may have over-reacted."

Mahiru flexed her hand, testing the bandage. "Yeah. That sounds like my luck: a little good that goes bad," she said bitterly.

"Princess!" Katsura touched her arm, dark eyes soft with concern. "It's not your fault. Nozomu should have had better control."

"It's not _what_ he did," Mahiru tried to explain. "I just don't know why he did it. Like that, I mean."

Katsura hesitated, then said, "Nozomu will have some explaining to do, I think. And at the very least, he owes you an apology for drinking from you without your free consent. This may cause some trouble, but it's not your fault."

"I don't understand," Mahiru repeated. Her head began to whirl again, this time with a slow, throbbing ache beginning at her temples. Why was it that whenever one of the Lunar Race tried to 'explain' something to her, she ended up feeling either confused or guilty?

"There are rules," Katsura began. "Rules that govern how Nozomu's people may act with humans, andwell, you are the Descendant of the Princess, Mahiru. Those rules are even stricter when it comes to asking such a favor of you."

Katsura sighed, shaking her head. "You should try and rest," she said. "In the morning, when things are calmer, perhaps then things will seem clearer. If not..." The pianist crouched down before her, resting a hand on Mahiru's arm. "I am here to help you, Princess, in what ever way you require. If you still have questions, either Master Oboro or myself will do our best to answer them."

Mahiru managed a faint, tired smile. "Thank you for your kindness...I'd really just like to go to bed, now."

"Of course."

Mahiru refused any other offer of help, making her way down the hall under her own power. Halfway to her own room, her vision began blurring again. The seascapes on the wall gained texture and depth, seeming more like the world she saw underwater. She could almost feel the water sliding across her skin. It felt warm, like fine silk molding to her body. Shadows of fish and underwater plants played against the walls. Mahiru shut her eyes and bolted the last few feet into her room and shut the door.

Leaning against it, she drew several deep, ragged breaths, her eyes squeezed closed against what she might see. Gradually, her heartrate slowed, resuming its normal pace. Mahiru opened her eyes a crack. All she saw were the familiar pastel blue walls, the single accent lamp she'd left on. The arm of her desk lamp still swung over her desk, and Koumori-san already hung from it, wrapped in his leathery wings. Her bed stood nearby, neatly made, her pajamas laid out on the blankets, just as she'd left them. The posters on her walls remained only paint and pixel. _It's the human world again_, she thought in relief, stepping away from the door.

Within moments, she'd stripped out of her waitress's uniform and hung it up. She changed into her pajamas, stifling a yawn with her uninjured hand. She'd meant to do some studying, make up for the tutorials she'd missed while helping the Moonlight Bandits, but she literally could not keep her eyes open. She crawled under the blankets, already half asleep.

As she closed her eyes, a fragment of the song played through her mind. _'He shall hide me and protect me, just like the clouds sheltering the moon in a hazy sky...' _Nozomu's face swam in her inner vision, his eyes first a brilliant blue, then searing gold.

The wound in her hand tingled, as if ice water were splashed against overheated skin. She closed her fingers over the wound, ignoring the spike of pain. She tucked her closed hand against her lips. _A watchtower...a distant rainbow...desire that never ends..._

Sleep swept her away to a distant sea, where dreams danced and shimmered, but refused to take solid form.

On to Chapter Two: Midnight Confessions

* * *

Author's notes and minutiae:  
_Koumori-san: _literally, Mr. Bat. I thought the English name given for the bat Nozomu gave Mahiru was rather stupid, so I ransacked my Japanese dictionary for a more suitable name. (I mean, Mahiru's a lot of things, stupid isn't one of them.)

Mahiru's weird double-vision around Katsura: this story takes place just before Oboro tells Mahiru about the background of the others living with her, so at this writing, Mahiru has no idea that Katsura is a hermaphrodite. Since members of the Lunar Race gain access to their powers and ability to physically transform from physical contact with Mahiru, it seemed reasonable to me that Katsura-the-male could change back into Katsura-the-woman after touching Mahiru. (I would like to stress this is _fanon_, I have very little support in canon that such a thing is possible for Katsura.) 


	2. Midnight Confession

Disclaimer: see part one. 

More mood music: _Gessaki_ (Buck-Tick), _Wrong to Love You_ (Chris Isaak) 

A/N Forgot the AU label...but you've probably figured that out by now, eh? ;) 

**Sublunary 2: Midnight Confessions **  
by Cerise Tennyo

Once the door swung shut behind Katsura and Mahiru, all hell broke loose in the Moonshine's kitchen. 

"What happened?" Akira asked in honest confusion. 

"Nozomu did something stupid," Mitsuru said, hitching himself up on the counter. "Though what's so appetizing about traitor's blood-" 

"Mitsuru, that's enough!" Misoka cut in sharply. "You'll remember what you owe her-and that _we _remember it as well." 

Mitsuru flushed and looked away. The drained Teardrop...the girl who'd pulled him back to life...the same girl who descended from that faithless- It made no _sense_! That damn girl did stuff to mess with his head. She wasn't strong enough to take him on, so she used tricks; pretty words and gestures. They fooled everyone else, but not him. He'd grown up learning the rules of those human games-and how to break them. Just because he knew what he was now didn't mean he'd forgotten how it used to be. Hidden from Misoka's sight, his hand curled into a fist. 

He owed the damn girl his life. When he'd opened his eyes that night, he could see she'd been crying. A trick, he reminded himself. A _human _trick, and one that would lead the rest of his kind blaming _him_ for the loss of a precious Teardrop. _They should hate her as much I do! _he thought. A descendant of the false princess, a _human_ girl who made pretty promises and paid them with betrayal. Why were they being so _nice_ to her?

Unless it was a trick from the demons' side, a way to use the girl's power-wasted on a damn human-and get what they wanted. After all, Oboro had only rescued _him_ because they needed more help in getting back the Teardrops. If it was a lie they were telling the girl, it was a pretty convincing one. He almost believed it himself. He imagined they'd get rid of the girl after. What would they do to him? 

_'Attack your enemies without prejudice.'_ That was the only way a ward of the state-a pretty-faced boy with no family or protectors at all-could survive. He'd find a way to pay off what he owed that girl-and then she'd better be on her guard again. And if the other demons abandoned him...well. He wasn't a lost child anymore. Once they had the Teardrops, he'd be strong, so strong it wouldn't matter what anyone else did. He'd never be at someone's mercy, in someone else's debt, ever again. 

"Excuse us," Misoka said, his voice breaking into Mitsuru's dark thoughts. 

The fox-demon dragged an unprotesting Nozomu behind him, disappearing up the back stairs that led to the roof. 

"Hey." 

Mitsuru glanced at Akira, relaxing his clenched fist, wondering if he'd seen. 

"Get off the counter, okay?" Akira waved a sponge at him. "I gotta clean it." 

Nozomu let Misoka haul him up to the roof. He stumbled a little on the stairs, the price of an arrested transformation. Mahiru's power still shimmered inside him, a glissome silvering of his soul. _Megumi no tsuki._ She could bestow that bounty with a touch. With even a _little _of her blood inside him... 

He broke away from Misoka, stumbling to the safety rail. He rested his folded arms on the cold metal and pressed his forehead to his crossed arm. The cold felt more natural than daylight to him. 

"Explain yourself," Misoka ordered. 

His tongue felt too big for his mouth, still tingling with the taste of Mahiru's blood. "Can't," he said at last, forcing the word out. 

"You _fed _on the Descendant of the Princess!" Misoka hissed. "Without her permission!" 

"_Tasted_," Nozomu corrected with the careful enunciation of the tipsy. "Didn't bite." 

"Close enough. Do you realize what you've done?" 

"Nozomu turned his face up to the light of the waning moon. "Better than you do." 

"Really." If he'd been in his alter-form, all of Misoka's tails would be swishing with temper, bristled to twice their size. 

"I'm a _vampire_, Misoka," Nozomu snapped, losing patience. "A strong one, but still a vampire. _All _of us, all of our Race, need more than clean air, healthy land, and water to thrive." 

He thought of Akira, a sardonic smile quirking at his mouth. The werewolf had become a chef for a reason. They all had their needs, stirred to life by the waxing and waning of the moon. To survive in the human world, they'd learned to weave those needs into more acceptable activities, be it Katsura's piano playing or the Master's drive to protect. 

"We subsume them, but like moon to sea-tide, they still pull at us." 

"Preach to the choir a little louder, Nozomu," Misoka retorted, his eyes gleaming like sickle moons behind his glasses. "So what _pulled _you to her tonight, aside from the obvious?" 

Nozomu closed his eyes. "You know how it is during the waning moon, to feel your strength fading." 

In the past, Mahiru had been safely tucked away with her human guardian, her wariness of demon-kind serving as a shield. They needed her help, her co-operation, not terrified denial. Then, it had been easier to keep up a friendly banter, to come close, but not too close. Until that night she'd called to him, and he'd seen her surrounded by the reclaimed Teardrops, bathed in their light. Until all the lines became so blurred, he no longer knew where to step. 

"You didn't see her at the museum," Nozomu said abruptly. "When she held the Teardrop, its light became _her _light, became... I told that cop that the Goddess of the Moon was returning to her proper place, with us." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "And in that moment, I meant Mahiru." 

She'd moved then with a grace he'd only seen from her in the water. The light followed her, chased after her like moonlight on waves. He turned, faced Misoka. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" 

"If I wanted to hear only my own wishes given voice, I'd talk to Katsura," Misoka snapped back. "You all but threw yourself at her that night in the park. You're always finding an excuse to touch her-and it's not for the power." 

Nozomu winced, remembering that night they'd all sung the Princess from her sleep. _'I'd never, ever, bite the Descendant of the Princess. Well, that is, unless you want me to. Because that would be a totally different story!'_ As for touch...if he were less strong, he could argue it away as a simple craving for human warmth. The truth...the truth was that it simply felt _good_ to touch Mahiru, even without the blessing. Her hair and skin felt soft, and she fit well beside him. 

Misoka sighed. "What's done is done. You've started something here, Nozomu. I need to know what you intend to do about it." 

The cool air had cleared his head, driving away all but the last muzzy traces of the transformation high. He waved a hand in irritation. 

"It was a _taste_, not a bite. That's hardly 'starting something.'" 

Misoka regarded him in silence for a long moment. "Three threads," he said at last. 

Nozomu stared. "_What?_" 

"Three threads form the bond between a vampire and another," Misoka said, as if he were announcing the weather. "'Feed once at opportunity, once for need, once in hunger.' Three threads that form a braided cord between spirits." 

"Okay, one more time: a taste isn't the same as feeding." Maybe Misoka would hear him better if he made a recording. He scowled. "And how the hell do you know this anyway?" 

"The fox-demon smirked, much the same way he had when they'd all left Mitsuru's room. "Never you mind. But I think there's something you've forgotten, Nozomu." 

"Oh, enlighten me, _kanrisha-san_," he drawled. (1) 

Misoka began to walk back towards the door leading to the stairs. One hand on the latch, he added over his shoulder, "Wasn't it _you_ who told _me _her receptivity was 'top-notch'?" 

Nozomu stared as the door closed behind the fox-demon with a soft _click_. Alone on the roof, he slumped down into a crouch. He _had_ forgotten all about that. A girl with first-rate receptivity...exposed to a vampire's endless hunger. And she was only seventeen. 

He covered his face with his hands and groaned. 

Sunday morning, everyone seemed determined to pretend the incident had never happened. Mahiru came down once for breakfast. She didn't speak to anyone, the bandage on her hand a silent reminder. Afterwards, she disappeared back up to her room, ostensibly to study until her work-shift began. She didn't even come out for another meal. 

Nozomu had sat up the rest of the night, wondering if that one taste had indeed been the Blood of Opportunity. He _knew _it hadn't been Need or Hunger, those required a full bite. By the time the sun passed over the horizon, he felt more like one of his weaker kin, wanting only a cool, dark place to sleep the day away. Instead, he covered himself up more than usual, wore his sunglasses even inside, and pitched in with the chores. 

Misoka, thank the waning Moon that hid secrets, didn't know _everything_. In addition to Need, Hunger, and Opportunity, there had to be the Blood of Choice and the Blood of Trust. Some things, vampires didn't discuss much even amongst themselves. Still, even the first three made for a potent combination, strong enough that most vampires stopped with that. 

The question was, could he? 

(1)1 At the risk of being accused of using 'fan-girl Japanese,' I chose to use this word instead of the English word 'leader' Nozomu sometimes uses with Misoka. Like "Mr. Bat," it grated on me, not quite a good fit. According to my dictionary, 'kanrisha' means 'one who directs', which I think sums up Misoka's role in the Bandits rather well. Apologies if my word choice was incorrect. Oh, and _megumi no tsuki_, using the same dictionary, means 'blessing of the moon' or 'bounty of the moon.' Even though I'm erratic in its use, I felt in that particular scene, using the Japanese would have a bit more impact. 

(2) A note for the Mitsuru fans...he comes off as something of a jerk in this story...but then, at this point in the manga, he's still being a jerk to Mahiru. And yes, there's still more to come. ;) 


	3. Penumbra

Disclaimer: see part one. # # # text here indicates flashback # 

"Yet more mood music: _Inhaler_ (Hooverphonic-especially during the flight scene), _Code Red_ (Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within OST), _Out of the Shadows_ (Sarah McLachlan), _Vox_ (Sarah McLachlan) 

A/N: Mea culpa! My muse, the fickle wench, decided we needed more background. :rolls eyes: I expect to wrap everything up by chapter seven. :glares at muse: Right! 

Sublunary 3: Penumbra  
by Cerise Tennyo

Mahiru double-checked her satchel three times before closing it. At school, she knew she had a reputation for being something of a ditz, always forgetting a textbook, an exercise book, her lunch, bus fare home, whatever. And that was just on regular days! Now, with her thoughts flying in a million directions, she felt grateful she hadn't yet tried to leave for school still in her pajamas. 

_Wouldn't Mitsuru get a good laugh out of that one,_ she thought, securing the last buckle."Okay, I think that's it." 

Talking to herself, in her own room, was a habit she'd developed not long after her parents died. A strange new bedroom, surrounded by strange shadows, and a grief that seemed like a bottomless well. She'd begun whispering to herself in the dark. The sound of her own voice eased some of the dreadful silence-and some part of her still hoped her parents might hear her, and come back.

Mahiru touched a fingertip to Koumori-san's fuzzy head. "Behave yourself," she said. The bat only gave a sleepy _chu_, then wrapped up tighter in its wings.

She sighed, and started for the door. Nothing to do now but face the world. She'd hidden herself away in here all day, yesterday. But just like after her parents died, the world marched on, and if she didn't try to keep up, she'd get left behind. She pushed down on the door latch and stepped out into the hall-then winced as the door handle snapped back into place, striking right against the cut. _Yep. It's Monday._

She started for the stairs, turning her hand over to see if the cut had broken open. 

"Mahiru-chan." 

Startled, she looked up. Nozomu stood by the stairs leading down to the side entrance they all used. _He looks terrible!_ Mahiru thought in shock. Even after an exhausting stage performance, Nozomu wore at most a look of tired contentment. Now, he looked haggard, his skin sickly pale, his eyes dull. And he wore layers of shirts over his jeans, gloves on his hands, dressed more for late fall than mid-spring. Mahiru dropped her satchel and hurried to him. 

"Nozomu! Are you all right? Did something happen?" 

For the first time since they'd met, he raised a hand in a slight gesture, warning her back. She stopped in her tracks. 

";Mahiru-chan," he said, "I'm sorry about what happened the other night." 

It took her a moment to realize he meant the accident in the kitchen. "Oh, never mind that! What's wrong? Did you-I mean...are you sick...or something?" Her voice got smaller and smaller as she struggled to phrase the question. 

She recalled Akira's almost-hysterical babble at Mitsuru's bedside, about all the weaknesses the Lunar Race had here, things they didn't even know about until it was too late. Had something happened to Nozomu yesterday while she hid like a slug? 

He stared at her. "Never...mind...?" For some reason, he laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. 

"Nozomu...?" 

He broke off, shook his head. "No, I'm okay." He smiled at her, but it seemed weak, the kind of good cheer shown to visitors when a person was sick. "I-" 

";Isn't she up yet?" Mitsuru's voice reached them, echoing up the stairs."If I'm supposed to play taxi, she could at least be on time!" 

Mahiru winced, flushing with guilt. Nozomu rolled his eyes, an expression that almost reassured her that he was okay. "She'll be down in a minute, learn patience, will ya?" he called back down the stairs. 

Nozomu looked back at her. For a moment, he looked as serious and sad as when he'd confronted her by the waterside. "I really need to talk you. Please...come look for me when you get home, okay?" 

"S-sure,' she said, her heart beginning to jump with anxiety. _Did I do something wrong? What's going on? Why does he look like this?_

"All right. See you then." He began to turn away-but not before she saw give a surreptitious rub to a spot just above his heart, as if it ached. The same place she'd felt that invisible thread break. The same place that still ached a little in her. 

Mahiru grabbed her bag and dashed downstairs, tossing a hurried, "I'm leaving!" over her shoulder as she reached the door. _It's my fault,_ she thought. _Something happened, and it's my fault._ The demons relied on her luck, and it was a running joke at school that she was a good-luck charm. 

But not everybody near her got lucky. Not people like her parents or her aunt, who'd put so much of her life on hold for her that she might never make up for the lost time. Not Mitsuru, who'd died. What had she done to Nozomu? What might she do to the others? 

She found Mitsuru outside, slouched against the wall, arms folded, ankles crossed. Usually, he made some kind of comment, or just grabbed her, then pushed her away while he transformed. Since the museum, he said nothing to her in the morning. She wasn't sure what was worse: his physical bullying or this silence.

A strong wind swirled through the alleyway. Mahiru raised a hand to shield her eyes. When the wind faded, Mitsuru stood before her in his alter-form. She thought it might have been her imagination, but the transformation seemed to go faster this time, with less effort on his part. But the only changes _her_ body went through was to reflect back the light of the Teardrops, so what did she know? Without comment, he caught her around the waist like she was a bag of rice and launched them both skywards. 

Mahiru squeezed her eyes shut and held back a startled cry. Flying wasn't like swimming. All she could feel around her were the shifting air currents-and the tengu who controlled them. Up here, she was helpless, dependent on someone who'd said over and over that he hated her. She shivered, the winds shearing away her body heat. At least he no longer flew so high she had trouble breathing, or her eyes teared up. 

For the first week of Mitsuru's "taxi service," her friends had been in a panic when they saw her, fearing she was sick, that she cried herself to sleep every night, or worse. It was the one time her reputation for personal bad luck had proven useful: no matter how outrageous a story she spun, they believed her. After all, those things just _happened_ to Mahiru. 

He still flew too high, though. 

She couldn't understand why Master Oboro kept throwing them together. Mahiru remembered the gust of wind that had knocked her off the roof. By then, she'd been pushed around and roughly handled so often by Mitsuru, she had almost _felt_ his will, _his_ hands, behind that wind. Even before he fought with Misoka, he'd been trying to get rid of her.

_He wanted me to fall,_ she thought darkly, turning her face so the wind didn't whip at her exposed skin so fiercely. _I'll bet that if I slipped now, he wouldn't even try to catch me._

Her heart began to pound, even harder than anxiety warranted. _Anger_ pulsed through her now. Mahiru, who never got angry at anyone, who loathed fighting and suffering, felt her patience and temper at last beginning to fray. _I didn't even know the Lunar Race existed, or that that song was anything but a dream, a story to keep me company in the dark. Why is he still blaming me for things I didn't do?_

Wisps of memory, of late-night conversations she'd shared with Nozomu on the roof-top of her old home returned to her. Mitsuru hated her for reasons beyond her lineage. He hated her for having had a home where she'd been loved, for having friends who worried about her. He hated her for belonging _somewhere_, when he belonged nowhere. _Part of that's his own fault,_ she thought. _If he wasn't so nasty to every person he meets, maybe he could have friends, too. He could have a home. But he thinks everybody's out to get him, so he never gives anyone a chance!_

It wasn't fair! She'd tried so hard, reached out to him, attempted to be his friend. She might as well have saved her strength. At once, she banished the thought as unworthy. It didn't really matter. It just had to be done. 

# # #

Mitsuru lay on the bed of his room. She'd never seen inside the others' rooms, never intruded on their privacy, but she found the bareness of this room chilling. Only a few posters tacked up on the walls made it look lived in. All pictures of racecars, she noted, a visual capture of wind and flight. Probably the only things Mitsuru had ever been able to call his own. 

"This...this can't be all we can do!" Mahiru cried. She couldn't even feel the tears sliding down her cheeks. "That gas...it was sleeping gas, you said. So this is like an overdose, right? You don't _have_ to die from something like that!" 

Akira, half-sprawled against the bed that held the body of his friend, cried only harder. Mahiru stared through blurring eyes at the too-still form that lay covered to the chin. His face wasn't covered, like it would have been for a Japanese person. He looked pale as chalk. Sickly pale, not dead pale, not- 'They're treating you like one of them, even now!' she wanted to shout at him. 'How can you leave them? Wake up!' 

"Mahiru-chan...there's nothing more that can be done," Nozomu said, gently putting his hands on her shoulders. "I know-" 

She turned on him, fierce as a cat. "You don't know! You're giving up! And after you've done all this...this stealing, and frightening people-would they have even _tried_ sleeping gas if all those passengers on the ship hadn't been put to sleep? The police couldn't know you hadn't used the same thing!" 

Silence, except for Akira's muffled weeping. No one spoke. No one moved. Mahiru pressed her hands to her temples, trying to still the whirl of thoughts in her head. She'd had to take an emergency first-aid and lifesaving class, along with the rest of the swim club. Too many accidents happened around a pool to risk even one club member being ignorant of what to do in an emergency. The class had included what to do for a suspected overdose-but none of that would help now. They all said Mitsuru was dead already. 

She opened her eyes-and saw the Teardrop Misoka still held. "The Teardrop." she whispered. 

Two words, and she had everyone's undivided attention. "You told me," Mahiru said, watching the plan taking shape in her mind, "you came here for the Teardrops, that you believed they strengthened your-your life energy, or something. Death is gentler and kinder to you," she continued, though her throat almost closed on the words. 'Gentle' and 'kind' were words that never belonged with 'death.' Never! "Is it _longer_, too?"

From Akira and Nozomu's expressions, they had no idea what she was talking about. 

"You are correct, Princess," Misoka said, his face still expressionless. "We live longer and die more slowly." 

"That's it, then!" Mahiru's fist struck the carpeted floor. "If it's like an overdose...if there's some way to reach him, like when he went berserk that time...can't the Teardrop be used to make him stronger? Strong enough to come back?" 

Silence. The other members of the Lunar Race looked at each other. 

"It...might be possible," Nozomu said at last."The thing is, our orders were to collect the lost Teardrops. We don't have permission to use them. That's- " He broke off, jerking upright as if he'd gotten a sharp elbow in the ribs. 

It didn't matter. Mahiru already knew what he meant to say. 'That's why we need you.' They made it sound pretty, with Master Oboro asking her to 'light their path', all the friendly overtures. Mitsuru had been cruel, but honest: she was a tool to them, a means by which they could access their powers and get back something they'd lost centuries ago. In her heart, Mahiru could not blame them, any more than she could have turned her back and let them all die. Just like she couldn't choose a chunk of crystal over a person's life. 

";Please," she whispered. "If it's all possible...we should try!" 

Misoka started for the door, the Teardrop clenched in his hand. Nozomu looked after him in surprise. "_Kanrisha-san_?" 

"The Princess has made a request," the fox-demon said tightly."I will bring it to Master Oboro's attention." 

Mahiru looked up blinking back tears. For a moment, Misoka's words made no sense. "What?" 

"Master can give permission...if he chooses," Nozomu said softly. 

"Why wouldn't he?" Mahiru demanded. "I mean, Mitsuru-" 

"We're a dying people, Princess," Nozomu said. 

Mahiru stilled. Nozomu never called her 'princess', not once. He'd returned to the far corner, slouching against the walls, his arms crossed. He looked as distant and removed from this scene of sorrow as when he'd drawn on his power in front of the museum. "That Teardrop can keep many of us alive...or..." 

Mahiru bit her lip, using the pain to wall off the sob clawing at her throat. The door hadn't closed all the way. Mahiru could hear Misoka's voice, pitched low, but still full of music. Master Oboro said something in reply. Mahiru closed her eyes. She could see/feel the light of the Teardrop, though the crystal wasn't even in the room. It called-sang to her, just as the others had the night she'd dreamed of the demon warrior's death. 

She looked down, expecting to see blood on her hands. Yet Mitsuru hadn't been killed by edged weapons. Her hands were clean, but she still felt the heaviness of death on them. A dazzle-burst of light jerked her back to the present with a gasp. Misoka held out the newly recovered Teardrop. Strange...it didn't shine half so brightly with her eyes open. 

"I've spoken with Oboro," the fox-demon said. "We have permission to use the sacred Teardrop's power. The rest." he said, putting the crystal in Mahiru's hand, "is up to you, Princess." 

The power of the Teardrop-a chance! "Oh, thank you, Misoka! Thank you so much!" 

She would have hugged the fox-demon in gratitude, but too much time had already passed. She put the Teardrop between Mitsuru's limp hands-still warm, she noted, but utterly without strength-and folded her own over them. 

Now what? she wondered. This wasn't like when she'd sung Mitsuru's winds to calmness-with the others' help. She might have the 'power of the Moon', but she still didn't know what that meant. All it seemed to do was make her some kind of battery to re-charge the powers of the Lunar Race-and how would that help now? With the others, she at least had legends of vampires, werewolves, and kitsune to inspire her. She didn't know any stories about tengu. She didn't know what to do! 

Sacred power... Once before, she'd made a desperate prayer to her ancestress, begging for help. Maybe, if she tried again... She exhaled forcefully, emptying her lungs as much as possible, just as if she were preparing for a dive. She breathed in deep, slow... She bowed over the Teardrop, as if praying before her family shrine.

_Yume-hime, if anything the creatures have told me is true...if you ever loved the demon you pledged yourself to...help me to help them! Help me set it right!_

The light between their clasped hands flared even brighter, forcing Mahiru to close her eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw shadowy figures in that light, figures that refused to settle into a form she could name. Without another thought, she cast herself into the light, as she would have into a river. Brightness...iridescent brightness, like the heart of an opal. Mahiru drifted in the light, amazed to discover it had currents and eddies, like the waters she loved. The current carried her to the edge of the light, where it began to fade into darkness. A thread of melody reached her, the whisper of a woman's quiet song. 

_Demon child, demon child, why do you cry?_

That wasn't the song, not the words she knew, anyway. Did the demons have their own version? But Nozomu had sung the one from her dream...

Images swirled and snapped in and out of focus. She could see a child's ball, a boy with tengu markings on his face... Mitsuru? she wondered. He wore play clothes identical to those of any human boy. A person's life was supposed to flash before their eyes when they died. If she waited here, in this river of light and shadow, if she timed it just right, maybe she could pull him back! 

She heard the boy's heart-rending pleas for his parents, remembered her own, how they'd had to drag her from the beds that held her parents' bodies. She saw his rising panic, as the images swirled towards something out of a nightmare, with the human world pressing close, the dead reaching up for him. 

_Omigosh! This is the Sanzu!_ Mahiru realized. And they were drifting far too close to the other side. 

"Mitsuru!" she called across the river. "I'm over here! Let me help!" 

He recoiled, retreating into the grasp of the dead. His anger, his hatred, dimmed the light, deepened the shadows. Dead hands pulled at him, dragging him under. 

"Mitsuru!" she shouted again, but he was almost out of sight by then. _Water is water,_ she told herself. She imagined herself perched on the diver's block at the pool, poised and ready. _Wait...wait...not too tense, not sloppy-loose, don't miss... Ready...set..._

The dead wound their bindings around Mitsuru, ready to pull him down into the Dark Lands. His hands, his mouth...his eyes were closed, a drowning man, giving up. 

Mahiru pictured a shallow dive, remembered the feel of it in her muscles and joints, in the sheer focus required-_follow the Moon as it sets into the sea_ -reaching out, even as her body lay prostrate across the bed. So far away, that world...that world where she held a piece of the moon in her hand. _The Moon...it watches me..._ She dove after Mitsuru, into the dark, just as she had the night they'd all escaped from the cruise ship. She didn't worry about air, about how to come back. She saw a sliver of light, gray as a new dawn. 

Mahiru didn't know if it was the Teardrop, reflecting the tengu's lifeforce, or if Yume-hime had once more shown her the way. It didn't matter. She never felt her 'luck' leaving her when the others touched her, but if anyone ever needed it now... She pictured it as light, focusing it and her knowledge of its effect on the Lunar Race through the Teardrop. _'Think of your body as an instrument,'_ Misoka had said that day. Focus luck through the Teardrop, like light through a crystal, just as she'd learned in science-class. 

The bindings frayed and unraveled, disintegrating. Wake up, Mitsuru, she prayed. Wake up, or you'll be stuck here piling rocks! WAKE UP!

The hands between her own twitched, then clenched. Mahiru surfaced from the inner sea with a lung-searing gasp. Her head swam from the rush of oxygen, her vision wouldn't clear. Looking down, she saw herself reflected in Mitsuru's eyes. In her mind, she heard the sigh of a woman, weary past strength. 

"MITSURU!" Akira shouted, loud enough to make Mahiru jump. He bounced on the edge of the bed, all floppy ears and fluffy tail. 

# # #

They touched down three blocks away from Mahiru's school. She always walked the last three blocks, blending in with the other students who'd taken the bus or the train. She stepped back, and looked Mitsuru straight in the face. His tengu-form still looked strange to her eyes. She couldn't understand why she still sometimes saw the demon warrior around him.

"What?" he snapped, looking away. "Quit staring."

Oh, he was back to normal, all right. Nasty moods and all. Mahiru brushed at her uniform skirt and hair, trying to smooth out the windblown disorder. But she didn't regret it, she realized. She couldn't just stand by and watch somebody die, even someone who'd been rotten to her, like Mitsuru. She was with the others at the Moonshine, not just because of her own strange powers, but because they needed her. She couldn't turn her back and let them die. It just...wasn't right. 

Yet there was still so much she didn't understand. Inspiration came, so fierce and sudden she blinked, wondering if it was all her own thought. 

"Um, Mitsuru...you don't have to come get me after school today, honest. I know you don't like it." 

Mitsuru seemed fascinated by a nearby brick wall. While she'd been distracted, he'd slipped back into his human form. They were just a boy and a girl standing together, if anyone happened to walk by. "Doesn't matter what I like, dummy. Oboro told me to do it, so-" 

"I'll be responsible for it if anyone gets mad at you," she interrupted."I've got...club stuff today. I don't know how long it'll be. No reason to make you wait. I promise, no matter what, I'll be back in time to help with the setting up." 

Slow currents of wind curled through the alleyway. "You better not be planning to run off. They'll skin me-and I'll do worse to you." 

She glared at him. "Like I could. The four of you have been following me around from the beginning. I couldn't go someplace alone if I wanted to!" 

"Big surprise," he retorted. "The other one made a promise, too, and she lied. Can't blame us for thinking that, too." 

"You don't know she lied!" Mahiru said. Her throat burned, as if she'd been shouting. All she could see was the long-dead princess, held by her warrior, the tears they both struggled not to shed. "You don't know _anything_, so quit calling me stupid!" 

She dodged past him, neatly avoiding his grab at her arm. He'd done that before, done it often enough she could tell what he was planning before he did it. She burst from the alleyway into the sunlight. He wouldn't follow her, he knew. Because then he'd have to explain...and he couldn't. 

She turned on her heel, proud she'd managed a dramatic exit-then slipped as her left shoe skidded in a greasy puddle. She went down hard on one knee, her satchel smacking hard against her ankle. 

"Mahiru! Duckie, are you okay?" 

She looked up, spotted her long-haired friend running towards her. Behind her, she thought she heard a snicker from the alley. Mahiru sighed. Her bad luck just never let up, did it? 

Her day did not improve. When the instructor called on her to recite in class, she discovered she'd translated the wrong passage, and had to endure a ten minute lecture on being prepared for class. She'd forgotten both her lunch and money to buy food, so had to mooch off of Junko and her friends. She fell during gym class and tore open the cut on her hand and had to wait fifteen minutes in the infirmary before it was tended. 

"I bet you're still hungry," Junko said when classes ended. "How about we go get something-my treat?" 

Mahiru shook her head. "No...I've got some stuff to do, then I've got to go to work...but next time, okay?" 

Junko frowned at her. "You're working too hard, duckie. You need to have some fun, too." 

"The class trip is coming up," she reminded. "I'll have fun then!" 

She dashed off with a hurried wave and an apologetic good-bye. Luckily, losing herself in a crowd of girls in identical uniforms wasn't difficult. She had to get away, get some time to herself to sort all that had happened in the past few days. The others were willing to answer her questions-but they couldn't tell her how she was supposed to feel about something. 

_I help steal back treasures for creatures out of stories, cross worlds when I'm in the water, and I've brought back the dead. I think that deserves some thinking time!_

Her feet took her along familiar paths, until she found herself at the marina, her 'secret place,' where she came whenever she was troubled, or her luck had failed worse than usual. Mahiru sighed, took off her shoes, and sat down on the sun-warmed cement. She could hear the water lapping against the piling, see the water-birds as they swooped and danced through the air. She'd loved the water all her life, but at times, a swimming pool just couldn't soothe her like a stretch of open water could. She watched the ribbons of lights twining on the surface of the water, and let her mind still. 

_"You're our princess, Mahiru."_

What was that supposed to mean? She wasn't a princess, no matter how many times Misoka addressed as one. 'Descendant of the Princess,' they called her, but her family couldn't even claim a last name before Meiji and the fall of the samurai. The Lunar Race called the 'Moon Palace' home, while _she_ lived in Tokyo. So what did _princess_ mean to them, a human descended from a woman they blamed for their decline and approaching death? 

Except Akira looked it had meant something when he said. Misoka said it like it meant something, like she was a real princess. He never once used her name. 'Because you're our princess.' Like, 'you're our...' what? What could a clumsy high school girl mean to creatures like those she lived with now? 

"And I thought figuring out this 'good luck charm' stuff was a headache," she sighed. 

"_There_ you are." 

Mahiru started. _Nozomu!_

_

* * *

_

_Still more A/N:_  
1: Yume-hime: 'dream-princess', the unnamed daughter of the Minister of the Left who haunts Mahiru's dreams. I struggled with this one, not sure if it should be 'yume-no-hime' or the version I chose. Again, sincere apologies if I've made the wrong choice. If someone knows the correct form, let me know.  
2: Sanzu: the river between the lands of the living and the dead. (Reference: courtesy of the glossary in Lone Wolf and Cub, vol. 5)  
3: Dark Land: a name given to the Shinto land of the dead.  
4:"Pile rocks" Legend states dead children piled rocks on the banks (sia) of the river Sanzu as prayers for their parents. (Same ref as #2.) 

I feel like I really owe an apology to the Mitsuru fans...I'm not being very kind to him, and uh, it won't improve much. If you're curious as to why I choose Mahiru/Nozomu over Mahiru/Mitsuru, please visit: http:jdemorae. 

Once I realized the story was going to get longer...I had to figure out what I was going to do about Dawn's Venus (personal opinion here, but that's got to be among the stupidest names for a group of demon-hunters I've ever come across), and their role. Half a bottle of Advil later, I think I've got it figured out. But man, has this story changed from the original outline! 

_And thanks to you, my readers and reviewers! While I can't respond to each one, be assured that I read each and every comment, and appreciate them all. If you have questions about the story, please make sure that I have a way to contact you with an answer (signed review, or leave an e-mail address), or contact me directly (my e-mail is listed in my profile.)  
Until next time,  
Cerise._


	4. Illuminare

Disclaimer: see part one 

It's mood-music time again! Unbound (Robbie Robertson), Crescent Moon (Toshiyuki O'mori) AN:eyes text: Edging towards citrus here...still PG-13 material, I think. 

Sublunary 4: Illuminare  
by Cerise Tennyo

Nozomu pulled off his sunglasses, grateful the day was fading. The glare off the water could be brutal. Mahiru started, looking over her shoulder. 

"It's late," he said, starting towards her. His day-trained bats swooped and fluttered around him, including the one he'd given to Mahiru. "Mitsuru gave us your message, but when you didn't come back, Misoka and I went to your school." He paused. "There wasn't a club meeting, today." 

Mahiru ducked her head, hunching her shoulders. "I know...I'm sorry. I lied. I just...I needed some time alone. You never let me have any time alone." 

Nozomu sighed, settling down beside her. He hooked his sunglasses over the neckline of his shirt and braced a forearm against his knee. "We thought something might have happened to you. You might've been picked up by the police, you might've been hurt...you shouldn't worry us like that, Mahiru." 

He didn't say all the nightmarish possibilities had come mostly from his own mind. The police from the museum might have gotten a look at Mahiru, might have recognized her as the 'hostage' from the dinner cruise. _ Why is it we never factored in the human authorities when we sought her help?_ he wondered. It was a glaring error, a ragged hole in their defenses, and one they'd best fix as soon as possible. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She made a brief swipe at her cheeks. 

His chest tightened, pulsing with the ache. He hated it when she cried, not just because he felt bad she was sad. Crying, a person flushed up, all the sweet blood coming up to heat and color the skin-and his control was pretty tattered at the moment. As he watched, she raised a hand, rubbing at the spot just above the ribbon-bow of her uniform top. 

"So it was-" he began before he thought. 

Mahiru blinked, looking at him. "Huh?" 

_Oh, damn._ "'m hurting, too." Reaching out, he brushed the edge of the ribbon with his fingertips, speaking without a word. "It hurts, because it's incomplete. Misoka interfered-and he should have. It was wrong of me." 

"What is it?" Mahiru cried. 

Her hand was curled into a fist now, pressed protectively to her chest. He recognized the look on her face: fear. He'd thought-he'd _hoped_ they'd progressed past that, that she trusted them, now. Except she was lying to them, hiding out-and afraid. 

He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was supposed to be impossible for vampires to get headaches, but some days, he really wondered. He didn't want to get into this now. Right now, he just wanted to sit here with Mahiru. She only came here when something was bothering her, when she was sad or lonely. It was a good place to be quiet, and he didn't want to mess that up with talking. But she'd asked a question he _had_ to answer, a question she _deserved_ an answer to. 

"_This_ is what I wanted to talk to you about. I wasn't sure it had taken at first," he admitted. "I thought maybe Misoka had stopped me in time. Seeing your reaction, though..." He sighed, shaking his head. 

"You still haven't answered me." 

"The first thread," he said. "The Blood of Opportunity." 

Her reaction was nothing like he'd imagined. 

"_Opportunity_?I Like in taking advantage?" She was on her feet now, fists clenched at her sides, hurt betrayal clouding her face. 

Just like that time in her room, when he'd been stupid and echoed something Mitsuru had said to hurt her. He opened his mouth to answer, but Mahiru wasn't finished. 

"I _trusted_ you, Nozomu! And Mitsuru thinks it's the _humans_ using the demons? You saved my life...all you had to do was _ask_, Nozomu! _Ask,_ not play games!" 

_Don't say that to me! Don't give me permission-_ He reached up, grabbed her by the arms and pulled her down to him. She twisted like an eel in his grip, but he refused to let go. "Mahiru-chan, please. Let me explain." 

She subsided after a token struggle, but her limbs still trembled, quivering with the arrested fight-or-flight urge. He smoothed her hair, waiting for her to calm down enough to hear him out. 

"It's not opportunity like 'advantage' or 'chance'," he said. "It's more like...auspice, a sign from..." He waved a hand, not sure if he meant the kami or other forces entirely. "It has to _happen_. It can't be given, no matter how willingly, or orchestrated. It's..." 

He rested his chin on her head, wishing the gift of fine words came with his heritage. "Most of these things don't really have _names_, Mahiru. We don't talk about them, not because they're forbidden, but because there aren't words that fit. It's feelings, and thoughts, and...and..." He bit back a curse, frustrated that he couldn't express himself. Another of his Race would _know_. They wouldn't need explanations. Of course, that never stopped curious fox-demons from poking their pointy noses in. Or maybe Misoka wasn't all fox-demon, he thought mutinously. Maybe he was part ferret, too. 

Mahiru sat quietly in his loose embrace. Her fingers pleated and re-pleated the folds of her skirt in a nervous gesture. "So...what happens now? Will it always hurt? And-and what did you mean by 'first thread'?" 

Nozomu groaned silently. Had the first princess been this inquisitive with her demon? "It _should_ fade, since it's incomplete. The pain will fade with it." 

Mahiru pushed herself away, one hand planted flat against his chest. "_Should_?" she repeated, watching him narrowly. 

"You _are_ the Descendant of the Princess, Mahiru. You can wake what sleeps in our blood, no matter the face the Moon shows us. The Teardrops call to you even more than they do to us. I can't swear all the rules apply to you." 

"Great," Mahiru groaned, dropping her head to rest against his shoulder. "My luck is running just fine-for everyone but me." 

He shivered, feeling the twinge from the broken thread, the yearning for completeion. By the sudden shiver, Mahiru felt it too. A first thread, even one woven by Opportunity, faded with time. He wondered if he could wait that long. _And she said if I wanted...oh, damn it all!_

"The one who really screwed up is me," he told her, staring out at the darkening cityscape. 

"What- but-" 

"I've told you that we have both loved and hated the human race. Those feelings are the base of the threads that weave a human and a member of the Lunar Race together. For my kind, those threads come in how we share blood." 

Mahiru twitched a little at the mention of blood, but otherwise had no reaction. Nozomu would have prefered it if she'd jumped up and shouted at him again. This wasn't acknowledgement, compliance, or defiance. Any of those he could deal with. Apathy? Indifference had no chinks in its armor. 

"Was it like this...for them?" she asked at last. 

"The first princess's demon wasn't a vampire. We don't really know how their bond was made." Except that it had to be incomplete, or he wouldn't have gone mad without her. He couldn't say something like that to Mahiru, though, not after confessing to the first thread. She might give in, allow him to weave the others, not out of genuine feeling, but guilt and responsibility. 

"The song-" she protested. 

"-has about four different versions, that I know of, plus the human version. Questions are all you'll find there, not answers." Questions that had led Mahiru to them-but how long would she stay, once she realized they had very few answers for her? Instinctively, he tightened his grip around her shoulders. 

"And my dreams," she whispered. 

"Huh?" He drew back a little to look at her. Her head rested against his chest now, and he could feel the unhappy tension leaving her. _Because she's not in pain, right now. Because we're not separated._

"In my dreams," she sighed, sounding as if she were in one of Misoka's hypnotic trances. "I see them...the demon warrior and the princess, under a full moon. Her eyes are closed, like she fainted, or-or-" 

_Or dead,_ Nozomu finished for her. He held Mahiru carefully, not daring to interrupt. She'd known the song, he'd _found _ her looking up the story. Not once had she mentioned these dreams to any of them. 

"She wasn't asleep, she wasn't dressed for it," Mahiru continued in that soft, low tone. "I could see he was crying. He held her...in my dreams, he's always holding her, they're always together. He closes his eyes, like he's concentrating...kind of like the way you all look when you call your powers when the moon has changed." 

Just like Mahiru had looked, the night she'd drawn Mitsuru back into the living world, Nozomu thought. 

"Then she opens her eyes, looks up at him." Mahiru was a limp bundle in his arms now, except for one hand that absently traced along the placket of his open over-shirt. "They both had tears in their eyes, but not the kind where you're so mad you cry-wouldn't she do that, if the song was right? He looked like he was in pain, the way you looked today. Then her eyes close again... He never lets go of her, of her hand, she never fights him. They both fall, into the water, together. They never let go..." 

Stunned, Nozomu stared out over the water. His bats circled lazily overhead, cheeping to their oblivious master. Nothing he'd ever heard in human tales or the bitter accounts of the Lunar Race matched what Mahiru had just told him. _Descendant of the Princess..._

"How often do you have these dreams?" he made himself ask. 

"Oh, when the moon is full," she said. "And when-" 

Suddenly, she sat up, her cheeks so red they nearly glowed. "Twice a month," she said firmly. "Sometimes three." 

_When she bleeds,_ he realized. This Descendant held far more of the moon in her blood than they any of them may have known. And if they were true dreams...both sides had been lying to each other for centuries. Nozomu felt a wash of sickness sweep over him. The battles against the humans, the thefts...were they all based on a lie? 

"I'm so confused, Nozomu!" she cried out. "If the princess died with him, how can I exist? If she lived, if the other dream is real and it's the humans' fault, why do I see them fall?" 

"Well, there are-what other dream?" 

She nodded, her hair a whisk of softness along his jaw. "That night I called for you?" She glanced up to see if he remembered. 

As if he could forget. His name, exploding in his mind, his princess's terror sending him scrambling in response without question, without waking the others. Such a natural response, to come to her defense, to protect her, even from his own kind, if need be. He would probably have to work at letting her take risks. 

"Well," she continued, "I dreamed again...but not the old dream. This time, I saw humans, Japanese warriors with some kind of-of spear, I guess." She sat up straight, eyes wide. "I just realized...the demon from my dream... He's never wearing armor. It's the _humans_ who carried weapons, who wore armor. Th-they stabbed-right in front of me. I could see him, I saw..." 

She was shaking again, curling in on herself. His princess hated violence, even the small violence of theft. He pulled her in tight, mutely offering himself as shelter. 

"I saw blood, on my hands. His blood. It was still there right after I woke up, before the Teardrops called to me. Oh, Nozomu, what's _happening_ to me?" 

She flung her arms around his neck, holding him tight. He frowned in puzzlement. He hadn't smelled any blood in her room that night. Her hands had been clean. This 'dream' sounded more like a flashback. _Did you see him die?_ he wondered of the long-dead princess. _Did you go together and leave your newborn child behind, or did something even worse happen?_

She pulled away from him, sniffling, struggling to regain her composure. He let her go, pretending the loss of warmth didn't hit so hard. She looked back at him, over her shoulder. 

"Nozomu?" 

"Yes?" 

Mahiru twisted around to face him, leaning on her hands. "You told me about the threads. Telling someone about what's bothering you, telling the truth when you've been keeping a secret, that's supposed to make you feel better. Why do you still look like you feel bad?" 

"I tasted you, the Descendant of the Princess, without your consent. It's not exactly a crime...but it's not a good thing, either." 

She blushed. "Oh! Oh, that. Nozomu, I told you I would-" 

He pulled her to him to silence her. Blood wasn't something to make light of, a lesson humans never seemed to learn. He heard her squeak in surprise. Her body stiffened with resistance in his arms. 

"Don't," he whispered. Through her touch, he could feel the Moon, a soft, fading presence. "Please. I'm too tired, too _hungry._ I can only refuse you so many times, Mahiru." 

"But...you saved my life, Nozomu," Her voice sounded muffled. "It's only right-oh, no! Would that make me into a vampire, too?" 

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "You've seen too many movies, Mahiru-chan," he said between chuckles. "Vampires are _born,_ not made. No matter how often I bit-" 

The images that called forth made him shudder. _Desire that never ends._ The longing twisted through him, resonated marrow-deep. How many of his kind, the vampires, sang prayers of petition under the Moon, asking for someone to give what Mahiru offered in all innocence? 

Weaker vampires, those who could not bear the sun, lusted for ones like Mahiru. Not for her power or lineage, or even a ready partner for feeding, but for her sun-bright hair and light eyes, a true daughter of the Sun they would never see. What is forbidden and dangerous is most beautiful. When he'd agreed to join Oboro in seeking out the Princess and recovering the lost Teardrops, he never imagined he might gain a living treasure such as this. 

"Don't laugh at me!" Mahiru jabbed him in the chest with a forefinger, glowering. "How was I supposed to know? Vampires are stories, now." 

"Love stories, I hope," he said in reflex. 

"Nozomu!" 

Full dark soon, he noted, some of his humor draining away. They would have to head back to the Moonshine soon. It was getting cold here, by the water. Yet he didn't want to give up these private moments. 

"Hunger is another thread, Mahiru," he said. "The one most easily broken, but it still ties one to the other. Are you still so willing, after all this?" 

Mahiru leaned back, looking him straight in the face. "Will it hurt?" 

"At first. During the feeding...it usually doesn't. Afterwards, you might be sore, along with the blood loss." Honesty worked best with Mahiru, he'd learned. 

She looked a little paler, but her chin rose a fraction. He'd seen that look before. She'd worn it when she finally pledged herself to helping Mitsuru and to regain the Teardrops. Afraid, but determined, no matter what lay ahead. It amazed him all of the Lunar Race didn't fall in desperate love with these children of the sun. 

"A little pain," she said, "is okay." 

He stretched out, as if about to slink towards her. He could feel the change beginning. His vision sharpened, his fangs unsheathed, pricking at his own lips. His power-charm, tucked over his heart, eased the rush, kept him from striking before he felt sure of her consent. "And the threads?" 

She looked down at her hands, silent long enough for dread to begin to take hold. She glanced up at him, shy and quick. 

"Akira says I'm your princess...doesn't that mean we're already tied together?" 

Nozomu groaned. He wasn't meant to withstand this much temptation. "Then feed me, princess. Give me your blessing of blood." 

Mahiru fumbled at the neckline of her sailor blouse. "I'm sorry! It's a pull-over, not like the winter uniform-" 

"Are you sure," he said, tracing the neckline of her blouse. His nails had lengthened as well, turning sharp and opaque. "Are you sure you want to feed me from there? It's not like the books or movies. My teeth will leave a bruise." He caressed the side of her throat with the back of his knuckles. "It could be...misinterpreted." 

She looked at him blankly. He grinned around his fangs. He knew she was seventeen-but still so innocent? No boyfriends-or girlfriends? No-one who watched her in the water and dreamed...? _Idiots._

"I don't mind leaving what looks like a hickey...but your friends might have things to say about it." 

Mahiru clapped both hands to the side of her neck, looking mortified. "No! I mean...not there." 

He curled himself around her, shielding her from prying eyes and keeping her close. "I can feed anywhere, really, but finding the right spot can be... so seductive." 

Her cheeks burned as if slapped. Mahiru closed her eyes, but her head rested against his shoulder. All the permission he needed. 

"I like your winter uniform, too," he confessed. "All those buttons...so much easier." 

"Nozomu!" This time, it sounded like she ground out his name between her teeth. 

He laughed again. Reaching over, he took her hand. "I'm sorry. I'll try to behave." 

Mahiru's pulse raced against his fingertips. Her wrist...a bruise there would be odd, but easy enough to explain away or hide. 

"You're certain?" he asked again, discarding his earlier teasing humor. "You want to do this, knowing what it means?" 

"You saved me," she whispered. "Protected me. And I never said I didn't want-" 

He could _feel_ her blushing. He drew her wrist to his lips. A dark, shadowy vein showed under the pale skin. He could see the minute vibrations running through it as her blood pulsed through her body. Part of him denounced himself as deviant. This was his _princess,_ the one who could wake the moon, who might very well save his entire people. And he was taking her on a chilly dockside, like of the countless, nameless humans he'd fed and fled from over the years. She deserved better. His fangs slit through the thin skin, nicking the vein. No one would interfere this time. He had her permission. 

A mere taste, along with the power-boost Mahiru gave to all his kind, had been enough to send him reeling like a drunk. This...he'd never dreamed... Her blood spilled free, over his lips, and he was lost to the crimson kiss. An amateur athlete, her blood glowed with health, free of impurities. It shimmered inside him, like water glazed by the harvest moon, but thicker, hotter, a thousand times more nourishing. He could feel it washing away the stains this world left on him, sweeping away all the tiny injuries and harm that came from living on this plane. It salved away the ache of the incomplete bonding, weaving something new over it. 

This time, he didn't break away until he felt it set. He pulled her wrist away, turning his head so she wouldn't see him with blood on his mouth. He swiped at his lips, wiping away the thin remains, regretting even that small waste. Digging through his trouser pocket, he found a handkerchief, which he pressed to the tiny wound. A vampire's bite bled fast, but without actual feeding, the bleeding stopped almost as quickly. Prevented waste. Couldn't have one's donors bleeding out because the vampire in question was drunk on the giver's strength. 

"N-No...zomu?" 

He looked back her. Her face seemed more shadowed, and he knew he now appeared only as a fair-haired, blue-eyed young man. She smiled faintly, and he thought he'd never seen anything as beautiful in this world. 

"You look...better," she said, her voice still soft. She was utterly limp in his embrace, gripped by the lassitude that came from being fed on. 

"Because of you, Mahiru-chan," he said. "I won't forget. But I need to get you home." 

"Okay." 

He didn't ask her to stand. Expecting a donor to engage in physical exertion after feeding was not just absurd, it was bad manners, the equivalent of a human male throwing a girl out of his rooms after- He steered his thoughts away from there. Best leave _that_ scenario alone for a while. 

He picked her up with ease, carrying her away from the water. He'd taken the van, so it only took a moment to secure Mahiru in the passenger seat, then go back for her things. He drove slowly, with far more care than usual. The sweet haze from Mahiru's power and her blood-gift made him want to just curl up somewhere- or dance. Still, he got them back safely, and carried the now-sleeping Mahiru inside. 

Misoka was waiting for them back at the Moonshine. The fox-demon looked at him, at the Princess he held cradled in his arms. Those narrow eyes lingered on the small bruise on Mahiru's wrist, then snapped up to his face. 

"An offering," he said, before the other could ask, "freely given." 

Misoka shook his head, strands of super-straight jet hair falling into his face. "Unbelievable. Katsura!" 

The bar's pianist appeared from the main club area, wiping his hands on a bar towel. "Yes, what-" He stopped, taking in the sight of Nozomu and Mahiru. 

"I know you have other work," Misoka said, "but would you please see the Princess safely to her room?" 

Nozomu bristled at the slight emphasis Misoka put on 'safely.' He'd done nothing wrong. He'd secured Mahiru's permission, explained the possible consequences. Katsura said nothing, only slinging the towel over his shoulder as he came towards them. In silence, he let Katsura take her away. 

"So which was it this time?" Misoka demanded. 

"Hunger," Nozomu answered flatly, annoyed at discussing such a private matter where anyone could hear. "And I told her. She knows what it means, what it meant to make the offer." 

"At least that one fades fast," Misoka sighed. "You're running an incredible risk, Nozomu. Our mission doesn't allow for personal indulgences. Just because yours are gentler than Mitsuru's doesn't make them better." 

He glared. 

"You're too familiar with the Princess," Miksoka continued. "You always have been." 

Nozomu smirked, folding his arms. "You almost sound jealous." 

"We have a job to do," the fox-demon said. "The lives of our people depend on it." 

Nozomu remembered that Misoka's mother had _died_, even in the sanctity of the Moon Palace, withered away from the corruption of the natural world. That knowledge softened his words. 

"I've done nothing to compromise our mission, or the trust we've gained from the Princess." 

"That remains to be seen." Misoka began to turn away. "Show a little more control, Nozomu. I don't think you've been careful enough. Binding yourself to the Princess... Consider how many of our people hate her, even worse than Mitsuru. You can be cast out, denied use of the Teardrops already at the Palace." 

"I know." He'd thought of all that, had struggled with it alone, in silence. "I also know this isn't the world the Moon Palace remembers. Over and over, we've been told the Teardrops are our hope, that Mahiru's power can win them back. I think, together, they are our _only_ hope." 

"So you'll sacrifice yourself and bind the Princess? How noble of you." 

"Look, Misoka...I'm a flirt, I'm not stupid. I didn't ask her for a promise. She didn't offer one. Whatever happens...happens." He thought of Mahiru's dreams, so out of alignment with the stories they'd all learned. He decided to say nothing about them for now. He would need more proof than dreams from a human most of the Lunar Race despised by habit before he could speak. 

"What I said to Mitsuru applies to you as well." Even with his back turned, Misoka radiated a tangible presence. For the space of a heartbeat, he wasn't the small, jet-haired man-child, but a _kitsune_ of the Moon Palace, wise in its intrigues, strong in the gifts of the Moon. "If any harm comes to the Princess because of you...you will answer to me." 

Nozomu remained silent. If Mahiru came to harm because of him...Misoka could do as he liked. 

"We're almost certain the next Teardrop will be displayed somewhere at the World Performance Festival. I want you to go and find out as much as you can about it. You know what to look for." He paused, then added, "You'll need to go tomorrow. Our time is running short." 

With that, he left Nozomu, pondering all the layers of meaning in the fox-demon's last words. 

-tbc- 


	5. Surface Tension

That's right, more music! _Far Shout,_(CHOBA) _I'm Going Slightly Mad _(Queen)

AN: Yargh. I know, long time, no update. I won't bore you with the tale of how Murphy's Law came to rule Chez Tennyo for the past month. The major cause for the delay: I had to replace my computer. I'm still not happy with this chapter, it reads sort of flat to me, but here you go! (Really, I'm not holding the story hostage, I just hate putting something up until I'm satisfied with it.)

**Sublunary 5: Surface Tension**  
by Cerise Tennyo

_A small room, no more than five or six mats large, lit by a single square lantern. The princess, her hair unbound as it would only be in her own rooms, rested her head against the demon's chest. "They will come," she whispered. "Alone, my father would not search for me overlonghe has other daughters," she finished with a touch of bitterness. "Yet the Emperor will send his own men to join the search, and my father dare not falter before them." _

_"Do you believe I cannot protect you?" the demon said, stroking her hair. His claws shone in the pale light, gleaming like polished stones. His hand slid to her shoulder, along her silk-clad arm to curve over her swollen abdomen. "Or our child?" _

_"Beloved, I can believe you are as Bishamon-ten himself at needbut an army is still an army, and we are alone." _

_"Your time draws near. It disturbs your thoughts." The demon held her close, the two of them at the edge of the lantern's pool of light. "Trust in me. I have not failed one of my sacred trustsand I hold you as precious as any treasure in any world." _

_The princess did not speak, but she put her hand over the demon's. Her expression of fearful sorrow did not fade. The shadows around them deepened, until the lantern's glow faded entirely._

A burst of pain jolted Mahiru awake. She shifted onto her back, cradling her bruised wrist to her chest. She'd rolled onto her side, pinning her bruised wrist between her body and the mattress. She frowned at the blue glow hovering nearby. _What happened to the lantern?_ She blinked, and the glow resolved itself into the luminous face of the clock beside her bed. Three a.m., she noted with a groan. She had to get up in two hours. Her wrist throbbed.

Wait, she had some aspirin in her purse. If she took some, maybe she could get back to sleep. Her over-full days made sleep too precious to lose. Getting out of bed, she found her purse and the small metal box she carried her aspirin in. Something tickled the back of her mind, something about aspirin and blood donating, but she was too tired to focus.

After what had happened at the marina, she'd expected to feel _different_, somehow. Instead, she only felt tired, a familiar fatigue she fought off once a month with mega doses of caffeine and sugar. _Ugh, _she thought, slogging down the hall. _Want sleeeeeep..._

In the washroom, she reached for a glass, filling it with water. The light above the mirror felt too bright, so she turned it off, leaving only the tiny courtesy light glowing by the door. She felt split in two, one part of her moving easily in the modern room, the other part still drifting in that other-world where only paper lanterns held back the fullness of night.

_Maybe I should be trying to wake up, _she thought uneasily, _instead of going back to sleep._ Each time she dreamed of the princess and the demon, or saw into the underwater world, it became harder and harder to pull all of herself back. Maybe she should tell the others...? No, she decided, remembering how they'd all laughed when she'd confessed her fear in the park. _This is probably the same kind of thing. Just something I need to get used to, like the others' transformed bodies._

She looked down at the glass she held, saw the surface of the water shiver, taking on a pale blue tint, a shadow of a waving sea frondMahiru popped the aspirin tablets and washed them down with the entire glass. She rinsed the glass and returned it to its place, giving the mundane chore more attention than it needed. If she concentrated on little things, her vision slipped less.

_I came here to help, and to learn more about this power, the dreams. _She'd helped them regain some of their lost treasure, but she didn't know much more than when she started. Strange... Master Oboro had been eager to tell her about the Lunar Raceat least the ones she lived with. Nothing about himself, nothing about the rest of his people, or that 'Moon Palace' they came from. Mahiru frowned.

They wanted her to trust them, why didn't they trust her? Still frowning, she started back to her room, only half-noticing the shadows of fish gliding along the walls. She caught the sound of low voices from behind one of the other doors.

Nozomu! Mahiru clutched at the neck of her pajama top, feeling hot and cold at the same time. That was his room. She'd always known, but now, knowing where he slept felt different somehow. _A distant sea... no longer distant._

She wasn't sure one could run silently, but she gave it her best shot.

Inside her own room, Koumori-chan's bright, beady eyes reflected the low light. "You keep quiet!" she hissed at him. "I was here the_ whole time, _got it?"

_chu?_ the bat squeaked from his perch.

_Furry little extortionist,_she thought. "Okay! I'll bring you some fruit tomorrow, cut small, just for you."

_chu! _The bright eyes closed, and she heard the soft, slithery sound of the creature's wings pulling tighter around itself.

_I wonder if Nozomu knows what little greedy-guts they are,_ she thought with a grin. Koumori-chan would do just about anything for a melon cube. Back in bed, she plumped up her pillow, shivering a little as the sweat from her quick dash down the hall cooled on her skin. Those 'threads' Nozomu talked aboutshe thought she could feel them, a little. She'd certainly felt the first one fray. _Opportunity... auspice... blessing... _ Were they like the red threads of the old stories, or something more mundane? If everyone who'd ever taken her luck had a tie to her, then she was already stretched wafer-thin between humans and the Lunar Race.

A sudden thought made her gasp and clutch her pillow. What if every time a human took her luck, it took that blessing_ away_ from the Lunar Race? This_ 'megumi no tsuki' _she possessed benefited humans even as it gave strength to the Lunar Race.No... She remembered being mobbed by a group of anxious girls at school the evening of the dinner cruiseand she'd still woken the moon for all the others with no difficulty. Well, no more difficulty than being bounced around like a rubber ball._ And I was in a skirt! _ she remembered, mortified. She decided to start wearing her gym shorts under her uniform, no matter what.

She flopped down on her bed. Did easy answers exist only in stories? Maybe that was why so many of them were wrong.

Mahiru closed her eyes, trying to organize her thoughts. They kept skittering around, like leaves in a strong wind. Why did the blessing work on both races, when only one needed it? Why were the dreams changing? Why had these members of the Lunar Race _really _ sought her out?

Mahiru frowned. She didn't like that questionit implied the others knew more about her, about her powers and just what it meant to be the Descendant of the Princess than they had told her. It meant, despite the worlds she could see in the water, there were still worlds and walls between her and the people she lived and worked beside. And she had no idea how to cross that divide.

She rolled over, hoping to escape her disturbing thoughts. She drowsed, just relaxing in the quiet. The darkness behind her eyes grew heavier, thicker, almost tangible. She saw flickers of light ahead, pale yellow and orange, not the brilliance of the Teardrop. She caught the acrid scent of lamp oil, felt air moving over her cheeks.

_Banners fluttered and snapped in the cold wind. Light struck gold off the spear-points, reflected dully off the armor of the warriors below. An army, an army whose hatred and fear spread before them like a miasma, tainting the air. _

_A never-ending hallway., stretching out into an eternity of shadow, with just the dim pools of lamplight to serve as a guide. She had to keep running. Behind her lay only the madness of grief and sorrow. To stop meant capture, dishonor, betrayal. So run... Run, and pray!_

The alarm shrilled, shattering the half-dream before it could root itself more deeply. Mahiru sat bolt-upright, already reaching out to smack the alarm off. Five a.m. Time to get up. Yet she sat for a moment, resting her head on her hand. That last dream-fragment... had it been just a regular dream? Chase-dreams were so normal, even dogs and cats had them.

A regular dream, she decided, mixed up with all the things that'd been happening to her. She should be glad to have a normal dream, and quit stressing over every little image that winked through her head. Because if she started doing that, she might

_Time to get up, _she thought, pushing the blankets aside.

* * *

Mahiru dug through her through the side pocket of her satchel. _Stupid thing... I know it's in here somewhere!_ The elastic bandage wrapped around her wrist made it more difficult. The bruise from Nozomu's feeding had bloomed into something the size and shape of an overripe plum thanks to the aspirin she'd taken. Her wrist had swollen a bit as well. Even worse, it was her writing hand. She should've paid more attention last night. 

Last night... Mahiru blushed, hugging her satchel as if it were a shield. By the water, it had felt_ right _to give some of her blood to Nozomu. Now, she wondered if she'd done something improper, immodest. One more for the list of things that confused her.

She shook her head and dug through her satchel again. At the very bottom, she found a battered plastic phone card printed with a fanciful underwater scene of dolphins and whales. She traced one of the dolphin's fins with a forefinger. Just what _were _her feelings about all this?

_I like them,_ she thought. _All of them, even Mitsuru._In the short amount of time she'd lived at the Moonshine, her knowledge of the Lunar Race had changed how she saw her own world. She couldn't pass a shrine with a guardian fox statue without thinking of Misoka. When the wind kicked up, she automatically looked for Mitsuru. While she ate out with her friends, she couldn't help but compare it with Akira's cooking. Katsura and Master Oboro were more distant, but still very kind. Her aunt had tried to fill in all the empty spaces her lack of family made in Mahiru's life, but there was only so much one woman could do.

The people at the Moonshine... filled more of those empty spaces. As confused and scared and angry as it all made her, she wasn't sure she could give it up.

Nozomu... Nozomu belonged in a whole different category of confusing. Akira called him a flirt, leaving her wondering if his attentions were real, or just an act. For the first time, she wondered what would happen when all the Teardrops had been found. Would they go back to that 'Moon Palace' and leave her alone again? The Lunar Race had apparently been going along quite well without having a Descendant of the Princess around.

And now she was back to wondering what being their 'princess' really meant. Hopefully, this afternoon, she might get some answers. Mahiru placed her call, wincing when she heard the balance left on the card. She'd have to get a new one, soon.

_"You've reached the Moonshine. We appreciate your call. We apologize, but we are not open for business at this time. If you would care to leave a message, please do so after the tone."_

She waited through the tonea series of bell-like soundsthen launched into her message. "It's Mahiru. I have to stop at the library, so I'm going to be late, so please don't worry. I'll be back before it's time to open." She hung up, rather relieved she'd gotten the answering machine and not a person. A person might've asked her questions like, what she planned on doing at the library that would take so much time. Unless Mitsuru answered, in which case he'd probably just hang up on her with a muttered, "So what?"

_I don't want to keep things from thembut they're keeping things from me. I need a better idea of what's happening to me._ She didn't dare check out any materials to bring back with herwhat if one of the others saw? More questions, that's what would happen. She had to admit, she was afraid of some of the answers, afraid to discover their kindness had all been a lie, made up for expediency. If they _were _ lying, just using her for her luck, it would hurt less to learn it from an impersonal text, and not from the lips of people she had begun to think of as more like family than friends.

_This is where I first met Nozomu, _she remembered, entering the library from the main entrance. _And Misoka._ She didn't think it was an accident. Mitsuru must have told them about meeting her at the marina, and they'd come looking for her. _Misoka even knew my name._

_"And all the other things you've wondered about? Things you know separate you from everyone else?"_

Yes. She wanted to know. _'So somewhere along the way, we all learned what it was and what it was not to be of the moon.'_ Except she was human, not 'of the moon.' Maybe the others didn't have any answers to give her. Maybe she had to learn on her own.

She headed straight for the computerized library catalog. The last time she'd done this, she'd ended up with a stack of books she could barely carry. This time, she intended to begin her search in a different direction. Placing the cursor in the search bar, she typed in, 'lunar legends OR moon myths'.

The library catalog produced a daunting list of titles. Taking a deep breath, Mahiru settled in to refine her search. After almost half an hour, she'd whittled the list down into something manageable. List in hand, she made for the stacks.

Time seemed to run along different tracks in a library. An hour passed, then another, while Mahiru lost herself in a world she never knew existed. In story after story, from _The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter_ to _The Rabbit of the Moon_, she read about humans interacting with non-humans. In a retelling of _The Feather Robe, _she found one tantalizing tidbit:

_ 'Then the maiden replied, "I will dance it here the dance that makes the Palace of the Moon turn round, so that even poor transitory man may learn its mysteries. But I cannot dance without my feathers." _

_'"No," said the fisherman suspiciously. "If I give you this robe, you will fly away without dancing before me." _

_'This remark made the maiden extremely angry. _

_'"The pledge of mortals may be broken," said she, "but there is no falsehood among the heavenly beings." _

_'These words put the fisherman to shame, and, without more ado, he gave the maiden her robe of feathers. _

_'When the maiden had put on her pure white garment she struck a musical instrument and began to dance, and while she danced and played she sang of many strange and beautiful things concerning her faraway home in the moon. She sang of the mighty Palace of the Moon, where thirty monarchs ruled, fifteen in robes of white when that shining orb was full, and fifteen robed in black when the moon was waning. As she sang and played and danced she blessed Japan, "that earth may still her proper increase yield!" _

_'The fisherman did not long enjoy this kindly exhibition of the Moon Lady's skill, for very soon her dainty feet ceased to tap upon the sand. She rose into the air, the white feathers of her robe gleaming against the pine trees or against the blue sky itself. Up, up she went, still playing and singing, past the summits of the mountains, higher and higher, until her song was hushed, until she reached the glorious Palace of the Moon.'_

Mahiru chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. This was the first story that mentioned a 'Palace of the Moon.' Was it the same one Master Oboro spoke of? _Well, there's the singing and the dancing, and the hint that both are like holy acts. That fits in with what Master Oboro and the others have told me._ Other things didn't fit, though.

One thing most of the stories had in common was a depressingly dualistic viewpoint: either humans were stupid, greedy misers who never kept their word and abused the gifts of Heaven, or the victims of mischief by a non-human.

There were other stories with princesses who had otherworldly suitors as well, but none of those ended happily. Either the magical being died, or the human found he was being deceived, or made the butt of a prank. Even the story of the Weaver Star ended on a sad note, with the two lovers able only to meet once a year.

It seemed that both sides accepted that other worlds existed, with other beings, but that the two really shouldn't mix. Except that they did. _'We have both loved and hated the human race.'_ She closed the last of her books with a snap. _So what about people like me? People who are different, but still human? _The stories almost never talked about people like thatand when they did, it wasn't in nice terms. _Where do we fitunder the Sun, or the Moon? _A chill chased itself down her spine. _Maybe we don't belong anywhere._

She thought of the hallway she'd dreamt of, painted in light and shadow. A hallway wasn't a room in a house, or a garden, or a wild place beyond walls. It was a between-place.

She started to look at her watch, then remembered it was on the other wrist. She'd been in here for almost three hours! She had to hurry if she wanted to get back in time. Mahiru gathered up the books she'd used and started for the return cart.

"Shiraishi-san."

Mahiru started, then grabbed for her books before they could spill to the floor. "Hi-Himura-san?"

The taller girl brushed back her dark hair. She wore it long and loose, without even a ribbon to tie it back. _Doesn't it get in her way like that?_ Mahiru wondered inanely. She wore her own hair in a short bob, perfect for fitting under a swim cap, but not so good for catching boys' attention. She'd seen how the boys watched Keiko Himura. She made even the school uniform look like something a fashion model would wear.

"I didn't expect to find you here," Himura continued.

Mahiru weighed that for a moment, wondering if she should be insulted. Okay, she wasn't an honor student, but she went to a good school, and she did well enough that college wasn't a fool's dream. She adjusted her grip on the books she held, holding them so the covers and spines couldn't be seen.

"I have a... club project due soon. If I don't get started on it now, I'll never finish in time."

Himura frowned. "What kind of project would the Swim Club do that needed books?"

_Rats! I should've said it was an extra-credit report forno, she's in the same class, she'd have picked up on that even faster!_

"Safety!" she blurted out. "Safety and lifesaving techniques! It's very important, in the athletic clubs, to make sure you know the most recent techniques and procedures!" _Wow, that almost sounds like something the club president would say..._

Apparently, Himura agreed with her, for the faint glimmer of interest faded from her eyes. "Oh. Well. Be careful carrying those books, you might make that sprain worse."

"Oh, I will. Was.. was there something you wanted?"

"Oh..." Himura brushed at her hair again. "I was just surprised to see you. I come here a lot, and I've never seen you here before. I wondered if I'd missed an assignment notice, or something."

_Beautiful and smart_, Mahiru thought glumly. _Not fair._

"People usually leave me alone here," Himura added.

Mahiru took a second look at her classmate. Keiko Himura had a reputation for arrogance and aloofness. If she had any friends, no-one knew who they were. She never acknowledged any of the attentions the boys paid her. _Now that I think of it... I always see her alone. She never hangs around in the classroom after school to talk, she never eats lunch with anyone. If she belongs to any clubs, I've never heard about it. So why would she need a place to be alone? _

"Um, well..." Mahiru hesitated, not sure how to respond. _Maybe... she's lonely?_

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Himura said, stepping back. All trace of interest had faded, leaving her as blank and expressionless as a store mannequin.

"Himura-san?"

The other girl paused, not quite looking back.

"If... if you ever need... to borrow notes, or something, you can ask me. I don't mind."

Himura remained silent so long that Mahiru began to mentally kick herself. _Stupid... she probably wasn't asking for anything. _

"Thank you, Shiraishi-san. I'll remember that. If you'll please excuse me?"

Mahiru watched the other girl walk away, then sighed. Maybe now wasn't the best time to try and make new friends, not when she had secrets to protect. Besides, the last person she'd tried to make friends with had been Mitsuru, and look how _that _was turning out. _I feel kind of bad for her, _Mahiru thought, placing her books on the cart to be re-shelved. _Maybe, when this is over..._ Hefting her satchel, she headed out, passing the 'Please turn off your cell phone' notices on either side of the doorway.

Outside, a familiar figure waited for her near the bike racks. He raised a hand in greeting. A faint sense of deja-vu swept over her, making her feel a bit dizzy. Her heartrate bumped up. She felt like she'd just surfaced from being underwater and taken that first deep breath. That single moment, without intruding thoughts or feelings, when everything was perfect and timeless.

"Nozomu!" She picked up her pace, hurrying towards him. "Were you waiting here the whole time? I'm sorry, you didn't have to come get me. I would've made it back okay."

He smiled and her heart did that funny kind of flopover in her chest.

"I haven't been here that long. I thought you'd appreciate seeing me instead of Mitsuru."

Mahiru ducked her head. "Uh... yeah. He really doesn't like taking me around."

He casually slung an arm around her shoulders. "Hmph. And I thought you might want to see me because I'm me, not just because I'm not Mitsuru."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! Of course I'm"

He laughed, squeezing her shoulders. She almost stumbled in surprise. "Relax, sweetie. I'm teasing."

She blushed, both at the endearment and the fact that they were walking down a public street like this, like a couple. _A pretty strange couple at that_, she thought ruefully. She still wore her high school uniform, while Nozomu looked older, like a college student. Okay, a college student who dressed a bit like a popstar, but still older than her. _And with that blond hair, and that accent, nobody's going to think he's my brother! _

"So what sent you to the library this time?" he asked as they walked.

"Stories," she said. "Like before."

He remained quiet for a time. "You can't believe everything that's written in old stories, Mahiru."

"I know that. My whole life feels like a story, now." _I just hope it has a better ending! _"I... wanted to know things."

"Things about us?" Nozomu asked quietly.

"Not... really. I found lots of stories" she hesitated, wondering just how she could explain without revealing too much in public. "Stories like _The Feather Robe_, where a human has a family with... someone who isn't. I wanted to know if the stories said anything about those children, about what happened to them. But I couldn't find anything."

Nozomu came around to face her, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "Mahiru-chan," He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Are you having regrets ?"

Did he mean regrets about what happened at the marina, or about helping them in general? "No. Just questions."

He studied her face for a long moment. For the first time, Mahiru wondered exactly what he and the others saw when they looked at her. She had only one face, one form. Did that make her ugly or freakish to them? Would she ever have the courage to ask?

He nodded slowly, and they started walking again. "You could just ask us, you know," he said.

"You make it sound easy, but I don't even know what to ask. And if there's one thing all the stories say, it's that you have to be careful of what you say and how you say it."

"Because otherwise you won't get the truth?" Nozomu's voice sounded tight again.

Mahiru winced. _D'oh! He's awfully sensitive, today! Though I probably could have said that better._ "No! Justit's things you know, and things I know, and we both think the other person knows them, but we don't. Know what I mean?"

"I... think so. But Mahiru-chan, if you don't ask us, how will _we_ ever learn you didn't know?"

She thought about that for a moment. "Oh."

He sighed, put his arm around her shoulders again. Mahiru let him draw her closer to his side, and never mind what anyone else thought. She'd upset him somehow, and this seemed to make him feel better.

Made _her _feel better, too, but if she thought about it too much, that blush might become permanent.

"I was on my way back from the WPF grounds when Katsura called and told me where you were," Nozomu added in a lower voice. "We're pretty much set there. We just need you to point the way."

Mahiru clenched both hands around the handle of her satchel. Maybe all the strangeness was taking its toll, but Nozomu's words _hurt_.

"Mahiru-chan?"

Without looking up, she murmured, "Is that _all _ you need me for?"

"_Mahiru._"

Startled by his tone, she raised her head. Nozomu looked strained and tense again. His hand, still on her shoulder, tightened until she winced. His grip relaxed, but it was an obvious effort.

"I can't answer that now. The job comes first, it has to, because of what's at stake. But I promise you," he said, drawing close again, "when there's time, I'll answer _all _your questions."

"_All_ of them?" she challenged. "Even the ones you think I don't know to ask?"

To her surprise, Nozomu chuckled, the tension smoothing out of his face. "The first thing my father taught me was to never underestimate a woman's knowledgeor to ever think I knew exactly what was on her mind."

She relaxed a little. _He's never mentioned his parents, before. I only know about them from what Master Oboro told me. Akira, Misoka, Mitsuru... they all lost their parents. Is it the same for Nozomu, too?_

She shoved the thought away. She didn't like to think about those things, it made her too sad, brought back too many memories. "Are the WPF grounds far?" she asked.

"No. We should be able to get there in plenty of time." Nozomu paused. "I should've askedare _you _up for this? You're not too tired, are you?"

Mahiru ducked her head to hide her smile. Now this was the Nozomu she knew. "I'll be okay."

* * *

Mahiru stood on the rooftop with the others and watched the festival grounds burn. The escape from the festival grounds had passed in a panicked blur of firelight and smoke, shouts and screams. The canvas tents were charred ruins now, only their frames and supports lasting long enough to keep burning. _Someone_, she thought with odd detachment, _is in big trouble._ Canvas for tents that size, for public use, were supposed to be treated with fire-resistant chemicals. Though she supposed no-one had taken a pissed-off tengu into the equation. 

She'd never seen the others look so shaken up. Even in their human forms, they looked worn out, a testimony to the strength of the attacks launched by those two strange young men. She shivered, hugging herself. The recovered Teardrop pressed against her heart. She'd believed the police had been their only real concern, the reparations to those who unknowingly held stolen goods the only worry. But those guys...

_"The world of today has no need for that darkness where your kind takes refuge! We are the Venusians of the eastern sky, from the 'morning star' that signals the break of day."_

It was such a pretty concept: the herald of dawn, the promise of a new beginning. Why did they do such ugly things in its name? Mahiru sat down, suddenly too weary to stand. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead against them. She couldn't see the fire anymore, but she could still smell the smoke.

"Do you think," she asked, "everyone made it out okay?"

"The festival was closing for the day, Princess," Misoka said.

_That's not an answer_. She remembered the groups of laughing people she'd passed as she sought the 'black tent.' There'd been families there, children too small to walk alone. And the people who _ran_ the Festival, who cleaned, and set things up. They wouldn't have been getting ready to leave the grounds. They would have been getting ready for work, not knowing the grounds of WPF would become a tinderbox in an eye blink.

She felt a tear splash down, then another, a third, building into a wracking sob that shook her from head to toe.

"Mahiru-chan."

She felt Nozomu's hands on her shouldersstrange, how she knew it was him, how she would have known, even if he hadn't spoken. She couldn't stop crying, though. Too many images, and the smoke had a scent she wished she didn't recognize. She felt physically sick from the hate she'd just witnessed. _"The humans have won, you see, and you lost to us long ago."_

_If being human means hating like that, I don't think I want to be counted as one!_

"What're you crying for, dolt?" Mitsuru snapped. "_They_ attacked _us_. It wasn't even a clean fight, they used traps."

"Shut up, Mitsuru," Nozomu said.

"Stop coddling her, Nozomu. If she's going to be of any use, she's just going to have to toughen upand decide which side she's on. You heard themthis is war, and they mean to wipe us out. And thanks to her, two of them got away."

Mahiru's nails bit into her skin. "Why don't _you _ stop talking like I'm not here, or that I can't hear you? If you can't see what's wrong in killing people," she choked out, "that's not my fault."

Seeing... she saw too much. _This world is not the only world. _ She could _see_ it, in the water. She could see in her dreams how they fractured and fell apart. Why couldn't she see how they fit together? And how could she ever explain it to someone else?

Mitsuru sucked in an angry breath. Before he could speak, Misoka cut in.

"You saved us today, Mitsuru. We owe you one. Let's not waste it by being caught too near a suspicious fire."

"Whatever," Mitsuru muttered under his breath, turning away.

Mahiru wasn't sure she could stand. Nozomu gave her a hand up, and she leaned heavily against him.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just... don't feel very well."

"Too much smoke," Nozomu decided. "Let's go."

* * *

With the appearance of Dawn's Venus, Master Oboro had set Mitsuru on "taxi duty" again, gently but firmly overriding Mahiru's protests. Mitsuru wasn't any happier about it. Mahiru began to dread going to school. Enduring the tengu's resentful silence was proving exhausting. 

Listlessly, she paged through one of her textbooks. Outside, the day was bright and warm, but the light and warmth never seemed to make it to the places Mitsuru flew. _Which could explain a few things,_ she thought, staring at a diagram.

She glanced up towards the front of the classroom. Earlier, the homeroom teacher had announced the destination of this year's class trip. Nara, Kyoto. The announcement had her friends in a swirl of giddy excitement. Mahiru sighed and looked back down at her book. She wasn't sure she'd be able to go. The others might need her here. They wouldn't let her even go to school on her own. No way would they let her go off to Kyoto alone.

_And I haven't been there in so long, not since my grandmother died._ She blinked back sudden, unexpected tears. _I learned the song from her. My mother knew it, too. That afternoon, when they sang it, it was the last time the whole family was together._

"Heyyyyyyyy, Duckie!"

Startled, Mahiru looked up. Junko and the rest of her friends crowded around Mahiru's desk. Junko threw her arms around Mahiru's neck.

"They're going to group us by drawing lots. C'mon, Mahiru! Give us a little luck, so we don't get split upand especially that we don't get that Himura snob in _our_ group!"

Mahiru fought the urge to look back and see if Himura had heard. Her desk was only a few rows away. Junko squeezed, half-choking her. "C'mon, Duckie, pleeeease?"

"I" Well, she couldn't say no, could she? That weird power of hers didn't work like that. The only control she had over who got her luck was in who she let get close enough to touch.

Her skin tingled and Mahiru blushed. _Nozomu._

"Hey, Junko, ease up, you're choking her!" one of her other friends protested, mistaking the reason for the color in Mahiru's face.

"Oops! Sorry!" Junko let go. "Let's go put our names in! Mahiru, we'll put yours in, too."

_Might as well let them. If I leave it to my luck, I'll get put in a group where everybody hates meif I get to go._

"Spreading good luck again?"

"Huh?" Mahiru looked up in surprise.

Keiko Himura stood in the aisle, not quite next to Mahiru's desk, not as close as a friend might stand. She watched Junko and the others for a moment, then turned her attention back to Mahiru.

"They don't even ask, do they? Or if they do, they don't wait for an answer. Just take what they want, and go."

"That's not true!" Mahiru protested. "They're my friends. And they don't really believe I give them luck. It"s just a stupid story."

"But you like those kinds of stories." Himura held her gaze. "All those books you were looking at. I saw them after you left."

_Oh. Oh, damn!_ She thought she'd been so careful! "Well, they're just stories. Not real."

Himura let out a breath of a laugh. "Stories used to be how people learned things, before we were able to write things down, before literacy was standard and not a rare privilege. There's more truth in the old stories than you might imagine."

This was a strange conversation. "Why do you say that?" Maybe Himura was from a temple family? They tended to pay more attention to things like that than most people.

Himura didn't answer, but placed a thin book on Mahiru's desk. "You might like this story. It's like the ones you were reading. Take your time with it, but I'd like it back when you're done."

Mahiru picked up the book. It was the same one Nozomu had shown her at the library, _"The Demon and the Minister of the Left."_ This copy wasn't a library book, though. The spine was broken, the clothbound cover fraying at the corners. The colors of the cover illustration had faded into drabness. _Sheesh. They could at least call it 'The Demon and the _Daughter _of the Minister of the Left.' That's who it's really about._ Himura _must_ be from a shrine family, if she had an old book with a warning tale about not making deals with demons.

"I"

Himura had returned to her seat and was staring out the window, her chin propped on her hand. Junko and the others came wandering back.

"Say... what'd that Himura want, anyway?" Junko asked.

_To know if I'd made a deal with a demon?_ "Um... she just asked about the reading assignment."

"Typical." Junko flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "Just because she's pretty, she thinks she can treat her classmates like servants. I hope you didn't tell her!"

"Why wouldn't I? Tell her something like that, I mean."

"You're too nice, Duckie. Especially to people who don't deserve it."

The others made agreeing noises. Mahiru looked down. _'They don't even wait for an answer.'_ Maybe Himura hadn't really been talking _to_ her, but about something that was weighing down her mind. _She kinda sounded like Mitsuru, when he goes off on humans using demons, only a lot quieter._

She slipped the book into her satchel. She'd give it back to Himura in a couple of days. Maybe by then she'd have figured out why the girl had offered it to her. _Is she trying to be friendly, or is it something else? Something bothering her?_ What could bother Keiko Himura, though? She was pretty, got good grades, didn't get into trouble, and the teachers didn't seem to dislike her. Well, okay, the other students gave her a hard time, but Himura's icy demeanor didn't help.

_Are things ever going to stop being confusing and unreal?_ Mahiru wondered. 'Culture shock' was what they called it when you had to deal with too many foreign things. Maybe that was what was happening now. It didn't seem fair that she had all this stuff from the Lunar Race to deal with _and_ stuff from the human world.

The teacher came back in, and she stood with the others to greet him. She'd have to think about this later. She didn't want to get a lecture about daydreaming in class.

tbc-

* * *

The story quoted in this chapter is from an actual Japanese folktale, translated into English. I can't seem to post the link here, I'll try adding it to my profile later.  
Credit goes to D. L. Asliman for editing and selection of these folktales. (I suppose one could also just Google the editor's name, and find the page that way.) 

The other stories mentioned in this chapter are also real folktales. _The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter _ precedes _The Tale of Genji_ as the first written work of fiction we would consider a novel. (I knew that Japanese Literature course would come in handy someday!)


	6. Night Without Stars

Disclaimer: See part one.

(Dark) mood music: _These Dreams_ (Heart), _Idea_ (Sudou Akira), _Blue Light_ (Final Fantasy movie OST), _Where Fishes Go _(Live). _The Thin Line_ (Queensryche) 

**Sublunary 6: Night Without Stars**

Mitsuru left her almost as soon as they'd both gotten through the door, not even lingering to sneer at her attempt to thank him like he usually did. Mahiru sighed and pulled off her shoes. She didn't have it in her today to tackle the tengu's weird moods. 

On the way home, she'd pondered what to do about the class trip. She really wanted to gobut if the others needed her here, she'd have to stay. _What would it hurt to ask, though? _

She found Katsuraor Sion, as she thought of Katsura's male aspectin the club area, polishing the piano. Mahiru hesitated. Something about the way Sion tended the instrument made her feel like she was intruding on a private moment. Hastily, she took a quick step back and rapped lightly on the doorframe. Sion looked up. 

"Please forgive the intrusion," Mahiru said, automatically giving the traditional polite response to being allowed into another's home. "I was wondering... is Master Oboro available? I don't want to disturb him if he's busy." 

Sion smiled, folding the chamois cloth he was using to polish the already-gleaming instrument. "He always has time for you, Princess. He's up in the office. Would you like me to go with you?" 

"Oh! Um, it's okay, thank you, I don't want to keep you fromfrom your work." Mahiru winced inwardly, listening to how her words fell over each other. Katsura was so much easier to deal with as a woman. Sion... made her feel strange, inside. Not the same kind of strange she felt around Nozomu, but enough to make her cautious. 

"Oh, I almost forgot... Nozomu asked if you'd stop by his workroom when you had a moment." 

Mahiru blinked. She'd learned they all had places under the Moonshine's roof that were considered private, even if it _appeared_ they were public spaces. No one touched the piano except Katsura Sion. The kitchen was Akira's domain. Master Oboro's office was a place no-one entered without permission. Nozomu had a corner of the basement that he'd claimed for his own. She didn't know what places Misoka and Mitsuru considered "theirs," but she felt sure that if she ever trespassed into the tengu's space, he wouldn't hesitate to let her know. At maximum volume. 

"Oh. Thank you. I'll do that." Mahiru bowed, as always wondering why some members of the Lunar Race elicited this kind of formal response in her while others didn't. She couldn't imagine such formalities with Akira, and Mitsuru's rudeness took the polish off of _any_ gesture of social grace. 

Sion responded in kind, holding the pose until she withdrew. It made Mahiru a little uncomfortable, a reminder of how little she understood just what they wanted from her. She climbed the winding stairs, still wondering how she was going to bring up the subject of the trip. It seemed like a silly request, now. _Excuse me, sir, but would you mind putting off saving your people so I can go to Kyoto?_

At the door, she hesitated. Should she ask, or should she just find an excuse to tell her friends why she was staying behind? Mahiru raised her hand and knocked before she could finish talking herself out of even trying. 

"Yes?" 

Mahiru peeked around the door. "Master Oboro? May I come in?" 

"Of course, Princess." 

Slipping inside the office, she closed the door. Seeing him seated behind that mammoth desk, dressed in the same kind of loose, comfortable clothing a retired man would wear, she wondered again just what kind of demon Oboro was. She had only ever seen his human face. She had no idea of his past, or his reasons for living in the human world instead of with his own people, or why he was directing the mission to reclaim the Teardrops. _I guess they decided I didn't need to know any of that._

"I'm sorry for intruding," she began. Oboro just gave her a faint smile and gestured for her to come forward. 

Mahiru complied, coming to the edge of the large desk. "I, that is, they made an announcement at school, today. About our yearly trip." 

"Oh?" 

This felt more and more like a stupid idea. "I-it's to Kyoto, this year. I was wondeing, I mean, if I need to stay, I should tell them, as soon as possible." 

"Kyoto?' Master Oboro put aside his papers and clasped his hands together. "That may work out quite nicely." 

Mahiru blinked. "...Sir?' _Does this mean I can go?_

"The old capital," Oboro murmured, a faint smile on his lips. "It has been quite a long time." His gaze turned distant, as if he were looking out not just across the room, but across time as well. "Yes, Princess, I think you should come to Kyoto with us." 

Mahiru wondered if she'd blanked out part of the conversation. That happened, sometimes, when she got nervous. "'With you'? I don't understand, sir. Were you already planning to go?" _And when was I going to hear about this?_

Master Oboro focused on her again. "We had intended to travel there soon, at any rate. I had been wondering what arrangements needed to be made to see to your safety. Combining our business with your school excursion may prove the best option all around." 

"Is there a Teardrop there?" she asked. 

"Possibly. The old capital holds many secrets. The Moon Palace is hidden there as well, one more secret of the city." 

"In Kyoto?" She thought of her grandmother's house again. Did the Lunar Race know how close the Princess's descendants had been to them? 

"Yes," he smiled. "We spent a good month looking for you there, Princess."

She started, wondering if he'd somehow known what she was thinking. Misoka did that sometimes, but she could never tell if it was actual mind-reading or if she just _was_ just that predictable. 

"But I've lived in Tokyo all my life." 

"So we learned." Oboro sobered. "We truly feared we would not find you in time, Princess." 

Mahiru took a deep breath and seized the opening. "That's something I don't understand, sir, if I may say. You'd been recovering Teardrops before I met any of you. Wasn't the reason you wanted my help because the police had figured out to anticipate a... a robbery on the full moon?" 

Oboro shook his head. "We've searched for you as long as we have actively sought the Teardrops, Princess. Longer, actually. Tracing a bloodline through its female descendants is not as easy as it once was. Adoption, marriage, so many things can tangle a family line. Your bloodline twines across centuries of time, Princess, almost disappearing during Japan's more turbulent periods. At times, even I believed the line had died out. That we found you when we most needed aid... was the first sign of real hope we have had in so very long." 

Mahiru swallowed. It made her nervous when one of the Lunar Race spoke to her with that tone. So hopeful and desperate, and she still had no idea what they wanted from her. _If it's not just my luck, what is it? What more do they want?_

"But why?" she asked. "Why go to all that trouble? I know having my power around helps, but..." 

Oboro raised a hand in a bid for silence. Mahiru swallowed the rest of her words. 

"Princess... what you ask is reasonable. I regret that I must be _unreasonable_, and ask that you trust us a bit longer, and believe me when I say your value to us is beyond even the aid you've given in recovering our lost treasure." 

Mahiru linked her hands together and gazed down at the floor. _Trust._ That one word held layers of meaning when it was applied to relations between the Lunar Race and humans. Trust, when one side felt, with some justice, betrayed. Trust, when the other felt, with some justice, deep fear and anger.

_But I don't have any choice. I _have_ to trust them. If no-one even tries, things will never get better._ Mitsuru, with his vow of never trusting humans, was a living example of how far that road _didn't_ take a person. But if she had no choice, was it really an act of trust or just bowing to necessity? 

"I came here to help, sir, and I'll keep doing that. Can I tell my aunt, then, that I'll be going to Kyoto, so she needn't worry if I don't call her for a few days?" 

She could feel Master Oboro's gaze on her. She fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny, hiding the small resentment as best she could. Patient. She had to be patient. 

"Of course, Princess. I understand you don't wish to worry your kin." 

_A little late for that. She's already worried. All I can do is keep it from getting worse_. Mahiru frowned down at the floor. She wished that last thought couldn't be applied as easily to her role with the Lunar Race and the humans. 

"She'll want me to visit my grandmother's grave, oh, my mother's mother, I mean. Auntie, she's my father's sister, but we're the only ones left, now. And with the Shiraishi grave here in Tokyo, we don't get out to Kyoto very much." Mahiru hunched her shoulders. "Auntie pays someone to keep it clean and give flowers and incense on the proper days, but it's not the same. Family should take care of family." 

"So little has changed in that regard," Oboro mused, his expression solemn. "If it can be done, Princess, it will. I see no reason for our business to interfere with your pilgrimage." 

"Thank you so much, sir." She gave Oboro a polite bow, as deep as one she would give to a respected teacher. "If I may be excused, then?" 

Oboro murmured a polite response. Mahiru slipped out of the elder demon's office, feeling as unsettled as when she'd entered. Why couldn't they just come out and _tell_ her what they wanted? Was there some kind of rule preventing them? Then why not just tell her _that_, instead of leaving her to wonder if they were all just playing some kind of game with her head?

Maybe it wasn't trust she needed to develop, but faith. They'd saved her from so mucheven though most of those calamities were things she'd never have been involved in without them. _They've never abandoned me, even when I was at my most scared and useless._ Faith, trust... she'd try a little of both and see how far they took her. It was worth a shot. She hugged herself briefly, then started for the basement. 

She'd never tell anyone, but the basement of the Moonshine creeped her out. It wasn't just that it was dark, with spiderwebs, and smelled like a musty old sack. Her aunt would say it was due to _kegare_ pooling beneath the building, and hire a _kaso or _maybe a _feng shui _practitioner to correct the imbalance. There might be something to that. Since moving here, since beginning to interact with the People of the Moon, she'd started developing a kind of awareness of things she couldn't see with her physical eyes. Like how she could now tell one of Mitsuru's summoned winds from a natural gust, even if she couldn't see the tengu, or how she felt _something_ shift deep inside when the others sang. _Plus, how I can see the Teardrops, even if I'm not in the same room or even nearby._

_I feel it even more now, since... well, since the marina,_ she thought, taking the stairs down. _I bet I could've found Nozomu even if Sion hadn't told me where to look. _It was kind of like the children's game of "Hot and Cold." When she drew near the vampire, she could feel a slow warmth spreading out from her chest, where that first thread had taken root.

_But is it my own feelings that cause this, or those threads? Are my feelings real, or something that come because of what we've done?_

She didn't want to think that. Nozomu had always been kind and gentle with her, different from Akira's boisterous cheer, or Misoka's calm formality. _He's a real charmer, _she thought, pausing on the last step. She'd seen how the women who came to the Moonshine reacted to Nozomu, the playful way he responded. _He hasn't acted like that around me since that time he transformed at the marina, _she realized. Did that mean his later behavior was genuine? 

He wasn't human, though he could pass as one. Maybe human interpretations would only steer her wrong in this case. _'We have both loved and hated the human race.'_ So... what did love _mean_ to one of the Moon's People? A lot of girls got into trouble, thinking that because a guy was nice to them, it meant love, or that a high school love meant love for life. She didn't want to make that kind of mistake. Her aunt had put off her own marriage for Mahiru's sake. What kind of trouble would result if it turned out that the niece she'd raised got into _that_ sort of mess? 

Well, maybe that was one of the questions she could get answered. She made her way past the utility rooms, noting how the laundry was piling up. She'd run a few loads through the machines that evening, make it a bit easier for the others. 

Nozomu's workspace lay straight ahead, a kind of low-key machine shop. He kept all of his projects there, strange bits of machinery and electronics that seemed as esoteric to her as any of the magic the Lunar Race used. He'd set up a lighting system any artist or doctor would envy, turning that one corner as bright as day. The air carried the sharp scent of hot solder and heated plastic. Mahiru hesitated. 

He'd traded in his layers for one of his more regular outfits: jeans and a t-shirt, its short sleeves scrunched up to leave his arms completely bare. It did weird things to her insides to see that much skin after he'd kept himself covered up for days. Not _bad_ weird, but something that felt that good was a little scary. 

Nozomu sat bent over some project, humming to himself. As she watched, he sat up straight, as if he'd heard something. Before she could say anything, he twisted around and smiled at her. 

_"Mahiru."_

No one had ever said her name like that, before. It made her heart shiver, just to hear it She swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond. Koumori-san swooped down to perch on Mahiru's shoulder. She started, jolted back into a more normal mindset. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot your fruit," she said to the bat. 

Nozomu laughed. "If you keep giving him treats, Mahiru-chan, he'll be too fat to fly!" 

Picturing that, Mahiru burst into laughter. Affronted, Koumori-san launched himself into the air, heading for the cooler shadows above. Ignoring them both, the bat folded itself in its wings. 

"Don't sulk," he called after the bat. "You know it's true." 

"Oh, it's just some fruit I promised him,' Mahiru said. "It's not like I feed him every day!" 

"Good," Nozomu replied. "Otherwise, I might end up feeling jealous of one of my own bats!" 

"Uh...' She stared. 

He waved a hand, glancing away. "Forget I said that." 

The resulting silence felt awkward. Jealous of the bat? That was just ridiculous. What could Nozomu get jealous about? She edged closer, turning curious eyes to the items on his worktable. "It seems so strange to me,' she murmured, "to see you working on things like this. It's" 

"So human?" he finished for her.

"Oh! No, no, I didn't mean it like that!" She waved her hands, as if to scatter the words and feelings hanging in the air. "I mean, a vampire electrician -mechanic-inventor." 

He propped his head on his hand, and grinned. "So, you thought vampires just lurked around in gloomy castles or flashy nightclubs?" 

"Well, you _do_ live and work in a nightclub," she said, a little defensive. 

He laughed. "That I do. Things like these" he waved a hand over the items on his workbench, " are like riddles, the best kind. With regular riddle-games, tone of voice, body language, a hundred different things can give the answer away. Best of all, solving these riddles does more than entertain, they can do good in the world." 

"Like the hydrogen engine you made for the van," Mahiru said. 

"Right! There are so many good things that humans have made, but you didn't take it far enough or you didn't think it all through, or you just changed your minds." 

Nozomu's expression turned brooding. "It's like the world is running on a binary system to you: it's either kill the planet, or go back to the Dark Ages when people suffered and died. Us, or them. It doesn't have to be that way, though. It can change. The only problem is, by then it might be too late to repair the damage." 

"Do you think that? That it's too late, I mean?" Mahiru asked. 

"I don't know,' he admitted, looking up at her. "Most of the time, I don't let myself think about it. If I think about it too much, it's too hard to hope. Then I _can't_ do the joband then we _will_ all die." 

"No!" Without stopping to think, Mahiru took his hand in hers, sudden tears stinging her eyes. "It can't be too late!" 

"Mahiru-chan" 

"I _won't_ let it happen like that! I won't!" 

"Shh, don't cry.' With his free hand, he wiped away the tears that had spilled over. "I hate seeing a pretty girl cry." 

"I mean it, Nozomu!" 

"I believe you." He cupped her chin in his hand. "So, please, don't cry anymore. Misoka will skin me if he thinks I've been doing things to make you cry." 

Mahiru blinked hard, sucked in a shaky breath, and nodded. He hadn't let go of her hand, she noticed. Before she could say anything else, he tugged her close. She almost stumbled, catching herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. 

"What? Nozomu!" 

His expression looked grim, now. "If you really mean to help us, you have to stop taking those crazy risks. You scared us badly by following us to that tent, Mahiru. Do you know what it did to us to know you were in danger and that we couldn't get to you?" 

He didn't shake her, but she could feel the tension coiling in him, desperate for any sort of outlet. 

"I-I'm sorry! But I couldn't just leave you there!" 

"They would have killed you, Mahiru," he said, low-voiced and serious, "either believing you were one of us, or because you were helping us. You had the Teardrop, too. You should have run, no matter the cost to us, because losing you is a price we can't afford to pay!" 

"Well, how much better do you think we'd do if it was just me and Mitsuru looking for the Teardrops?" she retorted. "We'd get nowhere a lot faster, but that wouldn't help." 

"You can't risk yourself, Mahiru. If only to set our minds at ease, be more careful!" 

"I can't just stand by and let my friends get hurt!" 

"We've fought Dawn's Venus many times over the centuries, Mahiru, and escaped more than one 'certain death' trap. We're still alive, but we _will_ die if' He broke off, pressing his lips together. 

She'd never heard him sound so grim, not even on that awful night when Mitsuru had died. "Is... this why you wanted to see me? To tell me to be more careful?" she asked, looking down. 

"No, I wanted to see you because I wanted to see you." 

"You see me every day," she pointed out. 

"I wanted to see you without everyone else hanging over us." He reached up, brushed at her hair. "Will you be more careful, Mahiru? For our sake?" 

There it was again, that odd spike in intensity. His expression didn't change, but Mahiru felt her heart jump. It _felt _ like he was a lot closer now, maybe closer than a well-brought up girl should let a boy, at least not without certain promises. Some of her discomfort must have shown, for Nozomu's gaze turned shadowed and remote. 

"Am I taking liberties, Mahiru? he asked softly. 

She sensed his withdrawal and clutched at his shoulders. "No! No. That is, it just... surprised me, that's all. I'm... not used to stuff like this." 

"Come on, a pretty girl like you?" He flashed her one of his stage smiles. 

Mahiru's heart squeezed in a familiar, painful knot. "Don't make fun of me, Nozomu, please." 

He touched his fingertips to her chin, making her look up. "I'd never do that, Mahiru-chan. Not like this." He gave her one of his considering looks. "You mean nobody at that school of yours ever... ?" 

She shook her head, looking away. It was so embarrassing to talk about stuff like this! "I never got any letters or gifts, except by mistake. No-one ever asked to talk with me outside of class, or to walk home with me-oh, except my friends, of course. The times I got up the nerve to ask myself..." her voice trailed off. She hunched her shoulders, those horrible, awkward moments coming back to her with vivid intensity. 

"They made you cry." 

She'd never known a Kansai accent could sound so harsh. A little frightened by that, she hastened to reassure him. 

"It's okay, really. It was really my fault. If I'd been paying attention, I'd have known they already had girlfriends, or weren't interested in girls like me. And besides, thinking about it, who'd have _time_ for a boyfriend? All the homework, and cram school, and club stuff, and then" 

"Mahiru!" 

She broke off, aware that she'd been babbling. Nozomu rested a hand against her cheek. 

"Mahiru-chan, you don't have to cry anymore. Not over that." 

Mahiru's heart began to pound. By the sudden brightening in his eyes, she knew Nozomu felt it, too. _Does... does he mean it the way it sounds? _she wondered. _Or is this another example of the difference between his race and mine?_

"L-L-Look, Nozomu, I know you grew up in Osaka and your people are different and everything, but there are some things you just don't say to a girl unless" 

"I mean it, Mahiru," he said. "Every word. Ask me to swear by the Moon, and I will." 

_'I made a promise to a demon boy.'_

A promise... was too much right now. She knew he was serious, could feel it twining through her own anxiety and doubts, soothing them. She felt something else, too, an urgent craving that could only come from the vampire in front of her. She felt it in her own body, like the first hot pressure in her lungs, the signal to surface for air.

"Are you hungry?" she blurted out. 

He started back, his grip loosening. "That's _not_ why I" 

"I believe you!" Mahiru said hastily. Oh, _damn _her luck that made such a mess of everything! "I believe you," she said more quietly, "but I still want to know: are you hungry?" 

Because if he was, she had to be careful when he said things like that. He might say something he didn't really mean to get what he needed. And if he made her a promise, and regretted it... There were names for girls who trapped guys with promises, and she hated all of them. 

When he looked at her again, glints of gold shone in his blue eyes. "For you, Mahiru?" He linked their hands together. "For you, I starve." 

She gasped, feeling the raw intensity behind his words. The awareness hummed over her skin, as if she'd drawn too close to a static field. How could she ever refuse him? How? 

"How do you stand it?" she burst out. "I can feel it, too, and it's" 

"Shhh,' he soothed. "It's part of what I am. You're not afraid of my other face anymore. Don't be afraid of this." 

He drew her closer and she went without resistance. Her hands, still clasped between his, rested against his chest. He looked too slender to be so strong. She remembered how he'd taken on a transformed Mitsuru in the park without once resorting to his own alter-form. 

She relaxed. She felt _safe_ with Nozomu _'He shall hide and protect me...'_ He'd saved her, comforted her, looked out for her, maybe even...? _Whoa, Shiraishi! Don't jump before you know how deep the water is!_ Yet he'd offered to give her a promise, a promise to the descendant of the one so many believed had been false. 

It wasn't like the declarations she'd seen in movies or read in books, but the very first time she'd fed Nozomu, she'd learned that books could be wrong. Maybe... maybe this was how it went in real life. A real life that included vampires and werewolves and worlds within clear water. 

Gently, she freed her wristthe left one, this timeand offered it to him.

"You're too generous," he said, even as he curled his fingers over her wrist. "You'll spoil me." 

The side of his thumb rested against the pulse point, sliding along the veins visible beneath her skin. "Such a strong heart..." 

He shifted so she could perch on his knee, his other arm firmly around her waist. "You're certain?" he asked. "This strengthens what's already between us." 

"Yes." Mahiru noted with some pride that her voice didn't fade out or squeak with stress. For the first time, in her own ears, she _sounded_ like a princess. 

He tightened his grip on her wrist so the veins plumped up from the increased pressure. "Blessed by the Moon that lights our path," he murmured, raising her wrist to his lips. 

Then his fangs broke through her skin, and all rational thought swirled away. A bite should hurt, but Nozomu's fangs pierced like a freshly sharpened knife. The pain only registered later. 

She clung to him, one arm draped around his neck. The last time, she hadn't been able to see just what he did. Now, she had a better view. Nozomu had his eyes closed, his lips pressed tightly over the small wound on her wrist. She could _hear_ him drawing blood from the tiny punctures. It should have repulsed her, but she felt only a deep contentment, a satisfaction that she could be of real help. 

She threaded the fingers of her free hand through his thick blond hair. He wore it long, past his collar. Any teacher at her school would send him home for violating the dress code, but she liked it like this. Not too short, not too long... 

The fingertips of her left hand grew cool as Nozomu's eager feeding drew blood away. How much was too much? she wondered. How much could he really get from such tiny punctures? Not worth worrying about, she decided. Nozomu wouldn't hurt her. 

With a soft, wet popping sound, Nozomu broke the seal his lips made over the wound. Pressing his thumb over the neat punctures, he turned his face from her, licking his lips. Mahiru, her head now resting against his shoulder, murmured, 

"You did that last time, too." 

"Mm.' His speech slurred, sounding as if he'd raided the Moonshine's liquor supply. One hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, keeping her close. "'S good manners. Only th' pe'vrse show the blood tey-_they_ feed on." 

The eyes that met hers were wholly blue again. Mahiru closed her eyes. She could feel a curious warmth spreading through her, a languorous sweetness like the heady state she entered after doing lap after perfect lap in the pool, only more gentle. 

"This is... almost like my dream,' Mahiru murmured. 

"Hmm?' With his fingers, he combed her hair back from her face. 

"Sometimes," she said, her eyes still closed, "he holds her like this." 

She could almost see them, on the stage of her mind. Her ancestors, whose story she learned a little more of whenever she closed her eyes. Once, she'd asked herself why she was the only one who could see things in the water. Now, she wondered if she was the only one who _knew_, who could give a true account of the Yume-hime and the demon who'd loved her. 

"But do you...?" she whispered, resting a hand against the vampire's chest. 

"Do I what?" he asked quietly. 

"Nothing." She shook her head. "It's nothing." 

_I wish it could always be like this_, she thought. _No fear, no worries, no secrets._

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

"Hey, Fangs, you down here? Master Oboro wants to see all of us, including the girl _if_ we can find her." 

Nozomu muttered something under his breath, then called back, "She's down here. We'll be up in a minute." 

Mitsuru made a disgusted sound and shut the door. Mahiru opened her eyes. Nozomu held her by the shoulders. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking into her face. "I think it's a little too soon to move around, but Master is calling." 

"I'll be okay," she assured him, standing straighter in an attempt to look stronger. Her vision slid, doubled, then snapped back into focus. "We should go... I think I know what he wants to talk about, anyway." 

"Wait a sec," Nozomu cautioned. He rummaged in a cooler set by his workbench. He fished out one of those energy drinks, the kind with a bizarre name, stranger colors, and awful taste. "Drink this, first. You need it." 

Mahiru made a face, but opened the small bottle and drank it down. Nozomu grinned. 

"I know, tastes like steeped maple leaves smell, but it's good for you. I drink the stuff myself." 

Mahiru studied the bottle's label. It promised to restore vitality, ward off fatigue, and rejuvenate the spirit. So far as she could tell, it had the same amount of water, herb mixtures, and flavorings as half a dozen other drinks. "You can live off this stuff?" she asked skeptically. It tasted more like corn syrup and cough medicine, but it did steady her. 

"_I_ can. Wouldn't recommend it for humans, though. Gets boring, and I'm not all that crazy about cold stuff." He took the bottle and put it in a nearby recycling bin. 

They all did that, Mahiru realized. The People of the Moon who lived here acted like it was a kind of _omairi._ Which, she supposed, made sense. If they were so close to nature that pollutants made them sick, they'd just do what was right to take care of the land they lived on. 

When he turned back, he wore a serious expression. "Mahiru... I'm grateful for your generosity, but you shouldn't offer so often. I can go quite a while without blood." 

"Oh! I didn't mean to do anything wrong! You were, I mean, I felt" 

"I'm saying this for _your_ benefit, Mahiru. I" he swallowed hard. Without another word, he reached out and pulled her to him. 

Mahiru tensed, but he didn't hold her like he was drawing power for a transformation. just wrapped his arms around her, one hand at the back of her neck, the other just above her waistline. 

"You risk too much," he murmured into her hair. "Whenever we do this, we're tied closer together. Even if you're prepared for where that might take us, outsiders won't understand. All they'll see is an obsessed mixed-blood, and the bruises on your body. I can'tI don't want to risk them taking you away from me!" 

_Them? Outsiders?_ Mahiru wondered. Somehow, somewhen, a line had been crossed. Nozomu, it seemed, no longer saw her as just a human. _If he ever did,_ she thought. She could feel a fine tremor shivering through his body. Was he trying not to transform, or were his feelings _that_ intense? 

"I think I understand," she murmured. "I shouldn't have" 

"Not so often," he corrected. "At least, let the bruising fade away before you think about offering. Too much, too often, can make you sick. I don't want to hurt you, Mahiru-chan." 

He sounded so serious, so worried, that she found herself nodding, just to put him at ease. "I promise." 

"All right, then. So," Nozomu said, putting his arm around her waist as they headed for the stairs, "what _do_ you think Master wants to see us for?" 

"I think we're going to Kyoto." 

He almost stumbled on the bottom step, but caught himself. "Already? But we're not" 

He cut himself off. "Let's go find out instead of guessing." 

He kept his arm around her waist as they climbed the stairs, only drawing away when they reached the top. His hand trailed down her arm, fingertips lingering at the edge of her wrist. Mahiru blushed for no reason she could name. 

The others had gathered in the main club area, in chairs dragged away from the tables. Misoka turned his head, watching them approach. He stood as they drew nearer. 

"Princess," he said, his tone almost expressionless, "please, have a seat." 

She couldn't demur, not while pinned under the gaze of those narrow eyes. Mahiru stepped away from Nozomu, feeling only a faint twinge as she did so. With an effort, she kept her hands at her sides, no matter how much she wanted to cup them over her heart. _"This strengthens what's between us."_ And these were only two of the threads he'd mentioned. What would the rest feel like? She returned Misoka's bow of greeting and slipped into the vacated seat. 

Akira sat at her left, chair tilted back, arms behind his head, chewing what seemed like an enormous wad of gum. He winked at her, then went back to staring into space. Misoka remained standing. Nozomu took a seat just out of her direct line of sight. Mitsuru, she saw, straddled a chair at the far edge of their rough circle, looking at no-one. 

Moments later, Oboro came down from his office, with Sion trailing behind him. The elder demon's gaze swept over all of them. Mahiru folded her hands and waited. Oboro seated himself, with Sion and Misoka taking up positions on either side of him. It looked like something from an old movie, the _daimyo_ holding court in his castle. 

Most samurai guards didn't wear jeans and t-shirts, though. She ducked her a bit, smothering her smile. 

"We have only a little time before we open, so I'll be brief." Master Oboro rested his clasped hands on his knee. "Our schedule is being moved up. We leave for Kyoto in-" he paused, cocked his head to the side. "A week, is it, Princess?" 

She nodded. Mitsuru shoved himself up from his chair. 

"What, _she's_ making those decisions, now?" 

"Mahiru's school trip coincides nicely with the time we need to be in Kyoto," Oboro said calmly. "It works out well all around." 

"Oh, yeah, we don't want to inconvenience 'her highness.' Wouldn't want her to give up her stupid trip because there's work to be done," Mitsuru sneered. "I suppose we're gonna have to drag her around with us, too." 

"Ow, c'mon, Mitsuru,' Akira said. "Don't be like that. Most of us never got to go to schools here. A trip sounds like fun." 

"Yeah, well you didn't miss anything." Mitsuru folded his arms. 

"Just to clarify," Master Oboro said, his voice light but brooking no argument, "the _Princess_ will be the one 'dragging you around,' as you put it. While Misoka, Katsura, and I make our reports to the Emperor, the rest of you will act as her bodyguards." 

"_Wait_ a minute-" Mitsuru began. 

"Um, Master Oboro... sir... that could be a problem," Mahiru finished. "The class is divided up into preselected groups, and they're not mixed. The only person who could be around and not stand out is Katsura-and not even right now." 

"By the time we leave, I'll look like a woman again, Princess," Sion assured her with a smile. 

Mahiru blinked. _She'll look like a woman? Wait, Master Oboro said Katsura changed _completely_ twice a month. Does that mean-oh, I don't want to go there!_

"We've watched over you in this way before, Princess," Misoka added. "We can do so again." 

Mahiru remembered the days following the disastrous dinner cruise. She'd caught glimpses of the others or one of Nozomu's bats everywhere she went, not to mention all the times she'd found Nozomu perched on the roof outside her window. _That was soooo creepy, then_, she thought. _I didn't know what else they wanted from me. I still don't, not really._

"Why does she need a bodyguard in Kyoto?" Mitsuru wanted to know. 

Sion and Oboro glanced at each other, hesitating. 

"Because the Moon Palace is there," Mahiru said, filling the silence. "And there are people like you there, who might do something." 

"Princes..." Misoka began in a pained voice. 

"People like me? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Mitsuru demanded. 

Mahiru lifted her head and locked gazes with the tengu. She remembered the park, the vicious choke hold he'd clamped around her throat, the attack by the swings Akira had intercepted before she could be more than frightened. The time he'd tried to summon lightning while she stood past her waist in water. Other times, every push and shove, times when her skin had been pinched, twisted, and bruised during his rough handling. The blast of wind, like a bulldozer, sending her toppling over the edge of the roof, the tiny whirlwinds he'd summoned in this very room, hurling every loose object at her head. Every vicious word, every cruel put-down. 

She let all that spin through her mind as she stared at him. He didn't look away, but began to pale, as he had when she'd challenged him the day they'd invited her to move in with them. The tension thickened, making breathing difficult. Any second now, she expected to see sparks of static electricity dance over all the metal objects in the room. 

"We cannot assume the two we fought at the WPF are the sole members of Dawn's Venus." Misoka's voice sliced through the tension, leaving it to collapse in on itself. 

"Dawn's Venus draws its warriors from cultivated families, all of whom have been indoctrinated to hate and seek the destruction of the Lunar Race," Misoka explained, sounding as distant as the Moon itself. "Those who do not fight still serve as watchers and information gatherers. The families spread their nets wide, and lurk under many names. By now, word of our quest will have reached every Venusian from Yokohama to Nagasaki. Their watchers may have limited, or even _no_ powers, but they blend in perfectly with the general populace. Cell phones and the Internet can relay information about our whereabouts in minutes. The snare can close before we even realize one has been set." 

_Like at the WPF_, Mahiru thought, twisting her hands together. 

"The Princess must be protected," Master Oboro said. "We will do our assigned tasks, and if the Seven Lucky Gods are kind, we will be successful." 

Oboro stood effectively ending the conversation. Mahiru shivered. Was it really that dangerous? She'd snapped out that comment to Mitsuru because she was tired of being his target. _Demons hate me. Nozomu says the Venusians will hate me, maybe kill me, for helping the Lunar Race. I'm a seventeen year old high school klutz... and I need bodyguards!_

A hot flash of bitter resentment seared through her. _It's not fair! I didn't do anything! All the people who started this are dead. What gives them the right to take it out on me?_

That very same thought, she realized, could be echoing in the heart of every member of the Lunar Race. Some of them _had_ done terrible things, she was sure, just like humans did terrible things. It made no sense to hate everyone for what a few did. Hating never made anything better. 

"Princess?" Misoka stood a little closer to her chair. "Are you-" 

"I'm sorry!" Mahiru jumped up. "I need to call my aunt now. I won't have time once we start getting ready to open, and we're always busy on a night like this. Please excuse me!" She darted for the stairs. 

"Mahiru!" 

"Let her go, Akira," Nozomu sounded tired. "We need to get ready, too."

* * *

321 miles didn't pass quickly, especially on a chartered buss with the required rest stops, gassing up, and meal breaks. Every time they stopped, they had to be counted by the teacher in charge, their names checked off the list the teacher carried. Mahiru felt sure she'd be hearing those numbers in her sleep for days to come. 

The scenery skimmed past the bus window, not fast enough to be a blur, but not slow enough for her to see any real details. A school outing should have felt like a welcome return to 'normal.' And she _was_ having fun with Junko and the othersthough her friends weren't too happy that Keiko Himura had somehow ended up in their group. 

Since moving in with the Moonlight Bandits, she'd had precious little time for socializing. Catching up, teasing Junko about Hashiguchi-san, all those little things that had made up her life Before, things she hadn't realized she'd missed until now. She couldn't remember when she'd met up with the others for coffee, or stopped for ice cream after a particularly grueling review session. Her world had changed, and she wasn't sure how much of the old world she could carry into the new, or even if she would be allowed into the new or just left to drift in the space between. 

Nozomu said she could always turn her back on them, and maybe Misoka could make her forget all that she'd learned. But the dreams, the warnings from the ancient princess... she'd had those long before she'd met the others. Just leaving wouldn't insure her easy sleep. 

Keiko Himura had a seat just ahead and to the left of Mahiru's . She didn't envy Keiko Himura-san's seatmate. The girl rebuffed all efforts to draw her out, just staring out the window, looking bored. Who knew? Maybe Himura-san just didn't like buses, or traveling. Everything she'd seen about Himura-san indicated the girl liked quiet. 

Mahiru watched her from the corner of her eye. She hadn't yet returned Himura-san's book. If the loan of the book had been a roundabout way of trying to reach out, what kind of message was Mahiru sending by taking so long to return it? She made a firm mental note to try and talk to the girl at a later time. 

Mahiru looked back out the window, resting her fingertips against the glass. She didn't see the Moonshine's van anywhere on the road, but she knew the others were close by. At least, Nozomu was. 

"Hey, Duckie, are you all right? Junko leaned over the seat, peering down at Mahiru. 

She realized she'd been rubbing the spot above her heart again. "Oh, yeah. I think I just pulled a muscle during drills or something." 

She never used to lie, hated lies as much as she hated jokes about death. Falsehood came more easily now, a gloss she spread over the truth. _What else about me is going to change?_ she wondered. _Will I even recognize myself when it's over?_

Junko tapped her on the head. "A sign you should stay on dry land for a while. That's where the boys are, after all!" 

"Hmph.' Mahiru crossed her arms. "And their girlfriends." 

"You give up too easily," Junko scolded. 

Mahiru sat up. "On, no! No. You're not fixing me up with your cousin, or his roommate, or whoever he is. I told you that." 

"Ow, he's a nice guy! I even have a picture of him." Her tone turned wheedling. "Wanna see?" 

"Leave it alone, Junko, please?" she pleaded "I don't like talking about this stuff." 

Her dark-haired friend sighed and dropped back into her seat. "Your loss." 

It had to be her luck, Mahiru mused. Junior high, high school... every crush she'd had turned out to be one-sided. Now, when she couldn't afford an outsider getting close, everyone had a guy they wanted to introduce her to. She could, in all honesty, say there was a guy at workbut then they'd want to meet him. 

They didn't arrive at their inn until late afternoon, too late to do any sightseeing, so the teachers just herded them into their rooms. The attendants, all smiling women dressed in colorful kimonos, handed out bedding, and the students spread out their futons in neat rows through the long room. 

"I can't _believe_ that Himura witch is in the same room as ours," Junko complained, spreading out her duvet. "Why couldn't she at least be on the other side of the screen?" 

"Well, she _is_, technically," one of the others pointed out. 

"She still has to come through _here_ to get _there_," Junko sniffed. "And with little Miss Ice Princess around, it's going to get really chilly in here." 

"Junko, take it easy,' Mahiru protested. "It's not her fault. We're put where the lists set us. It's not her fault, and she's not going out of her way to be nasty." 

"Not trying to be _nice_, either," Junko retorted. 

Mahiru shook her head. She really didn't understand why Junko hated Himura-san so much. So far as she knew, the two hadn't even spoken. Sure, Himura-san was pretty, but was Junko. Mahiru's eyes widened, and she grabbed her bag, pretending to dig through it to hide her expression. 

Junko really, really liked Higurachi-san. What if Higurachi-san like _Himura-san_? Oh, that could be a real mess, and it wasn't something a person could ask about, not unless you knew all three parties, and someone asked for your help. 

_Well, there's not much I can do about it. I mean, I kinda like Himura-san, but Junko_ is _ my friend. The others don't like her much either, and I can't speak out against them, it'd be disloyal. The best I can do is keep quiet while they talk about her, and not add anything to it_. 

She sighed and set a drawstring bag near her pillow. It looked similar to the bags the other girls used to carry toiletries in, but Mahiru's case, this bag held a sleeping bat. _Poor Koumori-chan It must be awful to be stuck in there all day_. She'd snuck him out at every rest stop, but there'd been no chance to let him fly. _I'll let him out when we all go change for bed,_ she decided. _Nobody will be paying attention then, and I won't need him 'keeping watch' while I'm in a room full of my classmates!_

With that decided, Mahiru cheerfully trooped down to the washroom when it was her turn, carrying the bag, her pajamasand her _real_ toiletries bag folded in her pajama top. She accepted a towel from an attendant, thanking her. 

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, wishing she had time for a real wash in the shower, but some of the earlier groups had dawdled, and it was getting close to bed-check and lights out. Making sure she was alone, she edged over to a small window and eased it open. 

"There you go, Koumori-san," she whispered, watching the bat launching itself into the night. From here, she could see tree limbs from one of the inn's gardens, making black streaks against the dark blue sky. So many stars, and the Moon was nearing full. 

_I wonder where the others are_, she thought. At that 'Moon Palace'_, or did they somehow follow me here, like at school?_

Well no use puzzling that one out. She'd hear from them when they needed her, and if she needed them, she had the bat. Humming to herself, she made her way back to the room assigned to her group. She hurried back in, well aware the teachers had every intention of waking them early. They had a full day ahead of them, tomorrow! 

Inside, she found a number of the girls frowning and whispering, casting worried looks towards the dividing screen where the other girls were getting ready for sleep. 

"What's wrong?" Mahiru asked, putting her bag down by her futon. 

Junko grimaced. "That Himura. Her stupid cell phone went offI mean, couldn't she have the courtesy to turn it off? Who does she have to talk to at _this_ time of night? She went off with the stupid thing, and hasn't been back, yet." 

"Bed-check is in seven minutes," Asako fretted. "If she's not back" 

"That _is_ so typical of her," Junko sniffed, thumping her pillow. "Selfish little beauty queen only thinks of herself." 

"Take it easy,' Mahiru soothed. "It was probably an important call, and she lost track of time. I'll go look for her, okay?" 

When no-one volunteered to go with her, Mahiru stifled a sigh, and slipped out of the room. No sign of her in the hallway, so Mahiru started to walk. She reached the lobby and found it dim and quiet, not even a guest up late reading. _This could be bad_, Mahiru thought. _Where could she be? Would she go outside, to one of the gardens, maybe?_

_In her _pajamas_? Come on!_ scoffed a practical corner of her mind. She passed one of the glass entrance ways, the one that stood at the apex of the curving drive. Spotting a car with its headlights on, Mahiru ducked back behind a potted plant, embarrassed that a stranger might see her wandering around in her pajamas. 

_Awfully late to be checking in, though. And that carit's kind of flashy for a businessman._ She frowned, peering through one of the narrow windows that allowed light for the plant. 

She saw a figure in a familiar school uniform, standing beside the driver's side. _Huh? Himura-san? What is-_

She could make out another figure in the car, a man, maybe. _The one who called her? Maybe something happened to her family, and they sent someone for her?_ She stood up on tiptoe to get a better view. 

A dark-sleeved arm shot out the driver's window and grabbed Himura-san, dragging her forward. Mahiru hesitated just long enough to see her classmate struggling against the other's grip before she dashed out the sliding door entrance. 

She ran straight into the sweep of the car's headlights. 

An old fear gripped her. _Can't see the car, the road, anything!_ A bad time to be blinded, while in the path of a car, even if it seemed to be standing still. She could hear the low rumble of its engine, smell the sour stench of drifting exhaust fumes. 

"Shiraishi-san!" 

The other girl stumbled back away from the car. Mahiru suddenly felt certain she'd read this all wrong, that she'd not only seen something she wasn't supposed to, but interrupted as well. She opened her mouth to stammer out an apology. 

The car door opened, and someone stepped out. 

"I told you, Keiko. The girl with the beasts at the WPF wore the same uniform as you. I saw enough of her face to know. This is the one." 

She couldn't see, but she knew that voice. That voice, which had done so much harm to her friends, that had tried to... Banish? Exorcise? She didn't knowbut she knew his name: Hokuto Koudokui, of Dawn's Venus. Her heart began to trip over itself, one beat beginning before another had finished. Something knotted in her chest. 

Were Nozomu and the others really nearby? Even if she had the bat, even if she tried to call for help, might Koudokui stop her? She didn't understand the mysterious powers he'd used against the Lunar Race. What could he do to a human? Could help even get to her in time? 

"What do you want?" She tried to make her voice sound strong and steady, like Misoka's, but it quavered up and down, a discordant scale. 

"Only to talk, Shiraishi-san. Nothing more." 

_Yeah, right._ She squinted. She could just make out the figure of Keiko Himura, standing a little more than arm's length from Koudokui. _Why is she just standing there? Does she know him?_

"We've sought the beasts,as well as the one who aided them, ever since the WPF," Koudokui continued. He wore a light suit jacket and dark shirt over dark trousers. "And when we found no trace of them, we sought you." 

_And it would've been easy,_ Mahiru realized in misery. Her appearance at the WPF, the stupid 'good-luck charm' story that _everyone_ at school seemed to know. _Was the meeting at the library an accident? Did they know about me even before the WPF? Was she trying to warn me the day she gave me that book?_

"You said you wanted to talk." 

"Not here. Come with us, please, Shiraishi-san. There are things about your... friends... " Koudokui said the word like it tasted bad, "that you don't know." 

"I know who caused the fire," Mahiru snapped. "I know who came and picked a stupid fight where other people could've gotten hurt!" 

Himura-san murmured something. Mahiru thought it sounded like 'got you there.' 

"They are an ancient evil, Shiraishi-san, a threat to all our kind." 

It sounded more like something he'd memorized and recited for a class than a real opinion. That gave Mahiru a flicker of hope. Maybe she could still turn this back, if she got the right opening. He continued on, as if he couldn't see Mahiru meant to speak. 

"There are many people here, Shiraishi-san, including the beasts. People who could get hurt, if we carried out our mandate here. You expressed such concern about the people at the festival... what about your friends? Your schoolmates? I can't promise they won't get hurt if another fight occurs." 

The hope fizzled to ash. He was threatening her friends? All of them? _The others are here, too? Why didn't they tell me? _ She knew Akira, Nozomu, and Misoka wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose, but if other humans saw their alter-forms, they'd panic and run. People could get hurt. They weren't just in Kyoto to keep an eye on her, they had work to do. A 'monster panic' could make that work impossible. 

And what about Mitsuru? He wasn't anywhere near as careful with his power as he should be. _What should I do?_ She'd literally tossed her one lifeline out the window. Maybe, if she bolted for the door, she could get inside the inn. Even if Koudokui followed her, she could start screaming, and that would bring- 

"Come with us, Shiraishi-san, just to talk. I'll have Mutsura leave them alone... for tonight." His right hand shifted, and she caught a glimpse of the lit panel of an open cellphone. 

Was there a line open? Was this Mutsura listening to the whole thing? The implied menace sent an icy chill through her. Mutsurawas he the one with the bow? The one who'd hurt Akira? The one who'd come hunting _her_ in the shadow of the black tent? _"So you wanna be my target practice, huh?"_ He'd fired that weird arrow without even knowing if his target was of the Lunar Race or another human. Maybe he didn't care. Could she take the chance of someone like _that_ being around her friends? 

What could she do? She wasn't strong, like Akira. Her power didn't work like Mitsuru's or even Misoka's. She was alone. Even if she ran, help might not come in time. One word over that cell phone, just as Misoka had warned... 

She'd have to _buy _time, then. If she didn't get back to the others by lights out, the teachers would start looking for her. Someone would look for her. 

"All right. But just to talk, like you said." 

"You have my word, Shiraishi-san. Only talk." He stepped aside, and gestured her forward, "Then if you will please come this way, Shiraishi-san." 

Hesitantly, she started forward, wondering if they meant to use one of the inn's other entrances. _Maybe out into the gardens, even. Koudokui took her arm in a near-painful grip. Mahiru balked. _

"Wait, where are we going?" 

"Somewhere the beasts won't interfere." 

With that, Koudokui literally threw her into the back seat of the dark car. 

"Hey!" 

She skidded over the smooth leather upholstery, almost hitting her head on the armrest of the opposite door. The car dipped and shook as the other two got in the front and closed the doors. Even as Mahiru reached for the door handle, the locks snapped down. 

"Let me out! I said I was willing to talk, not to go off someplace with you! Are you listening to me?" 

Ignoring her protests, Koudokui put the car in gear and began to drive away. Himura-san sat in the passenger seat, still silent. Mahiru couldn't see all of the other's girl's face, just her profile, painted in the eerie green light from the dashboard. 

"Himura-san, you're part of this?" 

The other girl raised her head a fraction. "You're asking my question." 

"I asked it first." 

"Then, yes. Koudokui is my fiancee. I am the seer for Dawn's Venus," she said with stiff formality. "I am their eyes in time." 

"Our compass and guiding star of war," Koudokui said with considerable satisfaction. 

Mahiru, watching the other girl's face, didn't think she considered that a compliment. 

_Why, oh, why didn't I keep the bat with me?_

When it became clear that nothing she said was going to convince Koudokui to stop or turn the car around, Mahiru fell silent. They drove for less than twenty minutes, judging by the dashboard clock. From the outside, it looked like another of Kyoto's traditional inns. Koudokui cut the engine. 

"Just a little farther now, Shiraishi-san." 

Mahiru glowered at him. 

Outside, they made her walk between them, Koudokui keeping a death-grip on her arm. They went to the top floor, passing a number of closed rooms before stopping before the last door. Koudokui slid back the door and gestured for them to precede him. Inside, Himura-san broke away and went to stand by the wall furthest from the door, ignoring both Koudokui and Mahiru. 

"There's no reason to make this uncivilized," Koudokui said. "Would you care for some tea while we talk?" 

"No." Mahiru knew she was being rude, but didn't care. Taking her away by force hadn't been part of the agreement. 

Koudokui shrugged and turned away from the door. "Very well, then. Since you seem to prefer the direct approach, let me ask you this: are you a willing servant of those beasts?" 

"I'm not a servant." _Just don't ask me what my role is, because I don't know._

"They are the enemies of all humanity, Shiraishi-san. Once, they ruled vast stretches of this land, through trickery and deceit. They posed as gods, and demanded the worship, adulation, and obedience that is owed to the true _kami_ alone." 

"Humans have done that, too," Mahiru pointed out. 

A choking sound came from Himura-san's corner. Koudokui glared. Himura-san just kept her back to them, but something about her posture told Mahiru the other girl might be... laughing? Judging from Koudokui's expression, he felt it was at him. 

"_Chosen _ humans, Shiraishi-san, humans who earned that distinction."

Mahiru didn't even try to hide her skepticism. "That's an opinion, not a fact." 

"Perhaps. What cannot be disputed is that these beasts have no regard for human life. They will not be content unless we are returned to what they believe is our proper place: servants, toys, and food." 

Mahiru winced. Koudokui's words painted a bleak, cruel picture of the Lunar Race. _But he hasn't seen what I've seen_. _He's never heard them sing, or seen them dance. The only time he's ever seen them was during a fight, and how can anybody say that tells you everything about a person?_

"Their outsides might be different," she protested, "but they feel pain and sorrow and happiness, just like we do!" 

"_Not _like we do!" Koudokui shot back. "What gives them pleasure is human suffering and debasement, misery and death. Those cursed powers of theirs serve no-one but themselves. They know nothing of honor or respect for life." 

"Where do you _get _this stuff? It's all crazy hate-talk. I mean, you've said a lot of words, but you haven't said _anything_ that supports them. It's... it's like you're just passing on nasty gossip you heard somewhere." 

Himura-san, now facing them, had her hand clapped over her mouth. She looked pale and tense, and... intrigued? 

"So you want proof, Shiraishi-san? Hard evidence that you've made the greatest mistake in your life by aiding these monsters?" Koudokui crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not the first human girl to be pursued by a beast of the Moon. It's happened before, over the years. Some we managed to rescue. Others... we found too late. The horror of their ordeal drove them to take their own lives. Many of those girls had families who tried to protect them, only to die in the attempt." 

"I don't believe you." 

"No?" He glanced back at her, over his shoulder. "So you _really_ believe your parents' deaths were an _accident_?" 

All the air seemed sucked out of the room. Mahiru pressed both hands to her stomach, as if she'd been punched. She remembered the smell of the incense, the weight of the framed picture of her mother, almost too much for her child-hands. The chanting of the priests, her aunt's struggle to hold back her own tears. _How does he know about my parents?_

Her gaze fell on Himura-san. Keiko Himura, who sat just a few rows away from her in class. Who must have heard her talking with her friends, who had heard the rumors at school. _You told him, _she realized. Whether it was something she'd Seen or overheard, Himura-san knew about Mahiru's parents, and had given that information to Koudokui. 

"Y-You-" she choked out, not sure if she meant Koudokui or his fiancee. 

Koudokui turned around to face her. "You little idiot. It's a game to them. The one I saw you with, the tengu. Do you know what they do to humans? Let me tell you." He leaned in, until he filled her entire field of vision. 

"They kidnap humans to amuse themselves. If their toys break... well, there are always more. Their idea of an evening's entertainment is to set fire to an occupied house. The screams of the dying serve as inspiration for poetry. Who really set that fire at the festival, Shiraishi-san?" 

Unbidden, she recalled the flashes of lightning, Mitsuru's white-hot fury made manifest. The lightning had saved the others, including Mahiru herself. Yet the fire... 

"Tengu are the foulest kind. They are cruel because it gives them pleasure. It's their art, their joy. They like shiny things," Koudokui continued, his tone lighter now. "Gold and silver jewelry, precious stones, even things like mirrors... or the sheet-metal of a freshly polished car." 

Almost against her will, Mahiru remembered the posters in Mitsuru's room. She'd thought they were significant to him because they meant speed and wind. What if Koudokui was right, though? What if... ? 

_No... no, it's impossible._ Mahiru went to her knees, doubling over. _Mitsuru's the same age as me! Master Oboro said he wasn't an adult yet. _ The image of the small tengu-boy playing with a ball flashed through her mind. The boy, she remembered, hadn't looked much older than Mahiru had been when the accident happened. The boy whose parents had mysteriously disappeared at that time. 

_A coincidenceif it's not a flat-out lie. These guys hate the Lunar Race. They want me to hate them, too._

"Do you want to hear what the wolf-demons do?" Koudokui said, his voice cool. "Or the _kitsune_? No matter how pretty their false faces, they are still beasts at heart." 

"They're not evil," Mahiru gasped out, "Just not like us." 

"Neither are viruses, but we don't let _them _run wild through the populace." 

Beasts, viruses. It seemed the members of Dawn's Venus saw room for only one intelligent species on the planet. She looked up and found Himura-san staring at her. Koudokui glanced from Mahiru to his fiancee, then frowned. 

"What is it?" 

Himura-san looked away. "Nothing." 

"You Saw something, didn't you, Keiko?" He seized her by the arm. "Something about her? Are the beasts coming for her?" 

"No, no. Nothing like that." Himura-san tugged against his grip. 

Mahiru's heart began to pound so hard she thought it might bruise against her ribs. How could she protect her secrets from a Seer? What could Himura-san learn from her, without Mahiru ever knowing she was revealing? 

"Then what? I know that look, Keiko. What did you See?" 

"Blood,' Himura-san said, her voice sounding oddly distant. "Her blood, the bat-spirit that guards her, an endless night, never to awaken to day..." 

Koudokui let her go. "A bat... There was a vampire among them, wasn't there?" 

Mahiru stifled a gasp. _Nozomu..._ Koudokui strode towards Mahiru, his expression grim. 

"Keiko's Sight has never failed us." He reached down to grab Mahiru's arm. "An endless night? What are these beasts plan-" He broke off, staring. 

His grip on her arm had tugged back the cuff of the sleeve of her pajama top. The old bruise from the last time she'd fed Nozomu stood out against her pale skin. In the center of the green-blue splotch were two distinctive red marks. 

"You fed them," he accused. 

Mahiru stared up at him, unable to find a response. He released her arm, looked at the hand that had touched her, and grimaced. "They use you for food, and still you defend them." 

"Hokuto, you don't know" Himura-san began, clutching at his arm. 

"It doesn't matter." The leader of Dawn's Venus looked down at her with icy eyes. "She's been feeding the beasts, keeping them alive. That makes her a collaborator in their crimes, a traitor to her own kind." 

"That's not true!" Mahiru protested. 

He ignored her. "Mutsura!" he called. 

The door slid open, and the young man she remembered with the bow stood at the threshold. He looked like the kind of guy who went to a bad school and hung out with a gang. _Wait, isn't he supposed to be back at the inn? Or did Koudokui make that up, to scare me into going along with them?_ Why hadn't it occurred to her before now that Koudokui might lie? She'd seen for herself the lengths Dawn's Venus would go to wage their secret war. _I'm so stupid!_

Did that mean he'd also lied about the others being at the inn? Was she really, truly alone? 

"Yeah?" Mutsura looked from his fellow Venusians to Mahiru, then back. 

"We have a reluctant guest, tonight. Please see that she goes nowhere without my approval." 

Mutsura grinned, and Mahiru shrank back. If sharks walked on two legs, they'd have a smile like that. 

"Hokuto, would you just" Himura-san began. 

Koudokui barely spared her a glance. With one hand, he pushed Himura-san out of the room, closing the door on her protests. 

"No-one comes in, either," Koudokui told Mutsura. "We won't be needing a seer's gifts for tonight's work." 

Mutsura raised his brows in silent question. 

"She aids the beasts," Koudokui explained. "Even after seeing their true faces, she aids them against her own kind." He broke off, looking away, as if whatever feelings inside him couldn't be made to fit into words. 

"A traitor... can still be redeemed," he finished. 

_Redeemed? _ That was usually a good word, but the way Koudokui said it, it sounded like a threat. Mahiru stood up. 

"You said you just wanted to talk. You gave your word." 

He looked back at her, his expression strange. "And I've kept it. Talking is all I will do. Mutsura!'

He started towards her, apparently knowing just what Koudokui wanted. Mahiru backed up a couple of steps. She couldn't let him touch her, couldn't afford to let _these _people get her luck. Her power, in the hands of those sworn to exterminate the Lunar Race. _I am in really big trouble. _

The room was small. She had no place to go. Still, she tried, darting around Mutsura, trying to make it to the door. He grabbed her arm as she passed, shifting enough to throw her off-balance and send her crashing to the floor. 

"Owww!" 

Someone beat on the doorframe. "Hokuto!" 

"Let _go_ of me!" Mahiru tried to twist out of his grip, but he just dug his fingers in. A whimper escaped her, rising as much from fear as pain. In her whole life, no-one had raised a hand to her, or deliberately tried to hurt her physically. _Except for Mitsuru._

Right now, she'd be glad to see even him, so glad she'd let him call her names and push her around for a week, if he wanted. Just so long as she was away from these people. _How could you do this, Himura-san? We're classmates. I never said anything bad about you, never joined in when the others did. How can you stand out there and let them do this?_

The banging on the doorframe didn't let up. _"Hokuto!"_

The leader of Dawn's Venus swore under his breath. Sliding back another door, he disappeared into an adjoining room. He came back moments later with a bag he tossed to Mutsura. 

"Make sure she stays put. I'll go calm Keiko down." 

The bag proved to contain some kind of thin rope. Mahiru shuddered. What kind of people _traveled _ with stuff like that? Mutsura knew what to do with that rope, too. No matter how she twisted and struggled, he managed to get her hands behind her back, winding the rope tight around her wrists. By the time he finished tying her ankles, Mahiru was soaked with sweat, shaking with anger and fear. 

At the door, Koudokui and Himura-san were carrying on a low-voiced argument. 

"You _promised_ me you wouldn't start trouble!' Himura-san hissed. 

"That was before we knew what she was. The beasts have managed to stay alive this long because fools like her help them. No refuge, Keiko. Remember that. They must have _no_ refuge, anywhere, from anyone!" 

"You've finally lost your mind! They're going to notice she's gone!" Himura-san gestured at Mahiru. "And I mean the teachers, the people you _can't _influence or 'make arrangements' with! What are you going to do, Hokuto? No matter what, this is _kidnapping_." 

Reaching out, Himura-san gripped the lapels of Koudokui's jacket. "You antagonized the Tokyo police last time. Are you trying to add the Kyoto police to the list as well? That inspector is just _waiting _for an excuse to arrest you after that fire! You can't _do _these things!" 

Koudokui broke her grip easily, holding the girl by the wrists. "I can, because I must. They _must_ be stopped. I'm through arguing, Keiko. The less time I have to work in, the worse it will be. If you're that concerned about your classmate, let me do what I can to save her from the spell the beasts put on her. Keiko..." Koudokui's voice softened. "We're so close. It's almost over. We've already won. This is just the cleanup. Let me do what needs to be done." 

"Hokuto, _please!_ We've never crossed that line. Don't do it now!" 

"_She_ is the one who crossed the line, Keiko. No refuge, no mercy, no forgiveness. You know that as well as I. Since you object so much, I won't make you part of this, if you leave now. Stay on, and... " 

Mahiru wondered what fit in that odd silence. _Please, Himura-san, don't leave. Don't leave me with these people. _

The sound of the shoji closing signaled the end of her last hope. She ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut. _And they call me the traitor? _

"Finish that up,' Hokuto said to Mutsura. "I'll get ready" 

Finish? She was already tied up, what was there to finish? 

She got her answer when Mutsura ran another length of cord from the bindings on her wrists to loop once around her throat, and back down. If she moved, the loop around her neck would tighten, choking her. He smirked at her expression. 

"Just keep still, and you'll have no trouble. In fact, if you're smart, you'll do whatever Hokuto tells you, and this'll all be over." 

She kept silent. He shrugged, as if to say, 'I tried,' and went to stand by the door. Koudokui returned a few moments later, dressed in the dark hakama and gi he'd worn at the WPF. Nodding once to Mutsura, he began laying out what looked like fat sticks of sidewalk chalk in various colors. 

Moving in a precise rhythm, he began drawing a pentagram around himself and Mahiru. They were just lines of chalk, but Mahiru felt as if a heavy door had slammed shut each time a point was made. Koudokui began to inscribe what looked like mere squiggles and lines in four of the points. She'd seen a pattern like this before, like the one that had swallowed Akira, and imprisoned the others. This pattern looked different, though. The air began to feel close, as if the room had been shut up tight for months. Stale, dead air. Her ears popped in response to the change in air pressure. 

_What's happening?_ she wondered. She was sweating again, the cold prickle of fear spreading over her skin. _What is he going to do to me?_

Koudokui, stern-faced and alien as an ancient warrior from a painting, turned to face her. He stood in the only empty point. He raised a hand, holding up two fingers as if he were a university lecturer giving a speech. 

"I will ask you this only once, Shiraishi-san. Will you, of your own will, cease aiding the foul beasts of the Moon?" 

She glared at him. Let him figure it out. 

His face settled into stony lines. "So be it. The wrong-headed must be restrained when their actions endanger others. Whatever fancy they've woven to seduce you from your own people, tonight, you will learn the truth." 

_So why does it sound like you're trying to convince yourself? _ She'd opened her mouth to answer when Koudokui pointed at her. 

"**Repent.**" 

The word shivered through the air, like sound-waves that kept pouring out after all in hearing range were deafened. Pressure began to built in her head, as if she'd dived too deeply into dark water. 

"**Repent**." 

Mahiru shuddered, feeling the word sinking into her. The way he said it, the word had hooks and claws, catching on her thoughts, gouging at her memories. It dug in, scraping away at her resistance. With her hands tied, she couldn't cover her ears, and with the rope around her neck, she couldn't move to escape it, either. 

_It's like... it's like Misoka's power!_ she realized. _Like the time he asked me my name, and I had to answer._ Except she'd complied with Misoka without even thinking about it. Koudokui's power hit like a bag full of bricks, making her want to run away, not comply. 

Gasping, Mahiru braced herself as best she could, eyes squeezed shut. The pressure eased a bit, and she felt something trickle over her lips. _Nosebleed_, she realized numbly. The powers of the Venusians were meant to hurt, even to kill. Even other humans. 

"_You're _the beast!' she choked out, tasting blood. "The _real _monster!" 

"You blind, ignorant little" 

She cried out as he caught a handful of her hair, dragging her head up. She saw the fury in his eyes, the way his other hand shook, as if he'd like nothing better than to hit her. She tried not to flinch. _Yume-hime, if I ever needed strength..._

He pressed his lips together in a tight, angry grimace. He let go of her, shaking the hand that'd touched her as if the contact had contaminated him. He raised his hand in the same gesture he'd used before. 

_I can't take much more of this. _ Blood still trickled from her nose, as if he _had_ hit her. She needed something to hold him off, at least until morning. The others would miss her, would come looking for her. A sliver of memory floated up. The first time she'd seen Nozomu and the others perform, when Oboro had explained their calling. '_Humans were once the same. They sang songs of prayers to the gods... They worshiped the Sun, as we do the Moon.' _

'If you're not singing, you're not living.' 

'Think of your body as an instrument.' 

When a person prayed, they did so in silencebut that didn't mean that they couldn't be singing _inside_. A swirling clash of images crashed through her mind: symbols of the sun, of the moon, the wrinkled surface of the sea. Upside down, inside out. 

When she'd helped to sing Mitsuru out of his rage, Nozomu had said they needed to focus on a single message to send with the song. She needed something to focus on, to set her song. 

Raising his hand, Koudokui traced another symbol in the air. For a moment, it seemed to Mahiru that a glimmer of light trailed in the wake of the young man's fingers. 

"**Repent**." 

The word crashed through her skull, smashing against her defenses, a tidal wave of bitter contempt. _What a feeble little girl. What a gullible, stupid girl._

Just like something Mitsuru would say. She knew where to stand against someone who said things like that. Some of her panic and dread receded, letting her think more clearly. She needed a message, a focus for her prayer-song. She chose the simplest one, the one cried out to all protective _kami_ since time began. 

_Help me!_

Now, she needed a song. A simple one that she knew well, one that had some kind of connection to her prayer. Something she could concentrate on, no matter what. 

There was one songit had been popular at school, its verses a help in memorizing geological ages for science class. It had one verse that almost sounded like a chant. A chant that called to powers higher than her own, powers that touched her dreams and might be moved to answer. Mahiru summoned the memory of the song, not just the words, but the music as well. The memory of music beat inside her skull, rolling like angry waves. Each cresting wave carried the words, the core of her prayer, higher. 

_ Rose of the sea, lily of the sea, apple of the sea, flower-bud of the sea _

The sea that she'd loved all her life. The sea that opened itself to her whenever she looked into water, embracing her like a long-missed child. The air inside the space marked by the pentagram began to feel heavy, like on the worst humid day of the year. Thick, like it wasn't just air anymore. Ancient. She thought she smelled saltwater. 

"**Repent**. **Return** to your own." 

No! She wasn't coming out of this place she'd made inside herself. Not for all his hammering and shouting. Her own... She was the Descendant of the Princess, not a Venusian. She had no people here. Again, she saw the faces of her friends from school, the shifting, yet now so familiar, faces of the four members of the Lunar Race she called her friends. __

Angel of the sea, mirror of the sea, door to the sea, mayfly of the sea 

"**Know** the truth, **repent** your crime!" 

Another cascade of images, distorted and frightening. The last seconds of the last car ride with her parents, before it went wrong. Shadows she never remembered before, reaching out, pulling... A clear day, a clear road... no reason for a crash. _Screech of rubber on asphalt, her father cursing as he fought the wheel. A loud boom! as the right tire blew. Her mother, lunging into the back seat. 'Mahiru! Mahiru, don't look!'_

She'd always believed her mother hadn't wanted her to see her father die. What if... what if there'd been something outside the car, something her mother, also of the Princess's blood, hadn't wanted her to see? 

Mahiru shook her head violently to scatter the thoughts, the images. The rope burned against her throat. _I won't listen... he can make me hear, but he can't make me listen!_ So hard to breathe... so long since she'd heard the song. Focusing past the moment, Mahiru pulled the words from her memory, stacking them like bricks to make a wall between herself and the Venusian. 

_ You are the sea. I am the sea _

She opened her eyes a crack. The sigils and lines of the pentagram smeared together, forming a bright blur. _Just like light on water, _she thought. _Door to the sea..._ She crossed worlds in the water. Maybe, just maybe, if she could find that door, she could send herself someplace else, at least inside her own head, someplace Koudokui couldn't follow. 

_ Like a whale, like a dolphin, like a sea-lion, I travel down into the depths of the great sea. _

She let the words carry her deeper, further down into the underwater world than she'd ever gone outside actual water. Koudokui couldn't find her there. He wouldn't even know where to look. The light turned blue, a pale, shimmering radiance. Ripples, the shadows of fish, sea-fronds, the curious eyes of the deep-sea creatures. __

Down through history, into the depths of the sea, where I find myself. 

She could feel the tug of the ropes binding her, holding her body. Her body was her instrument, one Koudokui didn't know how to silence. She threw her whole self into the silent song, and felt the dry world slip away. 

She could still hear Koudokui, his voice muffled and distorted as if she were really underwater. Just noise, now, even though the shocks of his strange magic still shook her. 

_ In the deep sea, where I can be myself. _

After a time, even the nonsense noise went away.

* * *

Mahiru floated in a soft, multi-layered darkness. She could feel the shivering reverberations of dolphin clicks and squeals, the sonorous plain-chant of whales. The world in the water, the world in her dreams, the world she lived in. Finally, she'd woven them together. If waking up meant returning to a world that had people like Koudokui in it, she'd much rather stay here. 

_'How far does the moonlight reach? And how far the sea?'_ Distant sea... Nozomu. Did they know she was gone yet? Were they looking for her? Or had they thought she'd run away, abandoned them? Maybe they'd decided they didn't need her anymore. Well, maybe it really didn't matter, so long as she could stay here. 

As from a great distance, she heard the door slide back along its track, slowly, as though whoever opened it was trying to avoid making noise. She heard the light, quick pad of bare feet. Mahiru tried not to tense up, to let whoever was in the room know she was awake. Bit by bit, the sea she'd fought so hard to call was fading away. _No!_ she thought in despair. She didn't have the strength to call it back again. 

She heard a rustle of cloth, felt someone leaning over her. Wait... was that perfume she smelled? Something cold pressed against her wrists, a sharp tug against the ropes, and the bindings fell away. Next went the bindings against her throat, her ankles. 

"I know you're awake." 

Mahiru's eyes snapped open. _Himura-san!_ She could just make out the pale blur of the other girl's face. She wore pale blue pajamas, her hair bound back for sleeping. 

"The seal is broken, you'll be able to move." Himura-san said, her voice so soft Mahiru had to strain to hear it. "The others are asleep. Go. Now. Follow the road, keep this place at your back. You'll get back to the inn where the others are." 

Mahiru tried to move, but she'd lain in one position for so long, her arms and legs felt numb, heavy and useless. She braced herself on all fours. The rush of returning blood made an agonizing dance under her skin. _Pins and needles? This feels more like broken glass!_

"Why?" Her own voice barely carried past her own lips. 

Himura-san hesitated, then drew back. "Dawn's Venus is supposed to protect humans." She began to back away. "You're on your own, now. Take the ropes with you. If I have nothing of yours, I can't See you." 

Himura-san left, as silent as she'd came, leaving her wondering if it had actually been Himura-san or something else. Mahiru remained hunched over in the pentagram, trying to will her muscles to move. Her prayer, it seemed, had been answered. She'd been helped, but not rescued. She'd have to make her own escape from this place. 

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up into a crouch. The ropes, cut through, lay like dead snakes on the floor. Mustering all of her concentration, she made her right hand reach out, pick up the severed cords. She still couldn't feel anything besides the pain of returning circulation. _This is good_, she decided. Pain like this, she could handle. Pain that Koudokui dealt out was another matter. One by one, she closed her fingers over the ropes. 

From the crouch, she rose, tottering, to her feet. She concentrated on lifting one foot, putting it down. She still couldn't feel the floor under her feet, but she could feel the change as she stepped over the lines of the pentagram. Her ankles and wrists began to burn, raw flesh exposed to the air. 

Himura-san had left the door open just wide enough for Mahiru to squeeze through, if she held her breath. Not a problem for her. Mahiru listened carefully before she eased herself out into the hall. Outside of the pentagram, the numbing fog began to lift from her mind. In its wake came the beginnings of the worst headache of her life. 

Mahiru winced, pressing a hand to her temple. They'd hurt Nozomu like this. _Protectors of the human race? Who _asked_ them for help? How does hurting other people protect anyone?_

A sudden burst of light bloomed behind her eyes, pushing the headache into full, painful force. Mahiru bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. _A Teardrop? Here? Impossible!_

But only a Teardrop glowed like that. She hesitated, weaving on her feet. Himura-san had told her to leave. By the time she got back to the inn and told the others, the Venusians would realize she was gone and disappear themselves, taking the Teardrop with them. If, indeed, the Venusians had the jewel, and not, say, another guest at the inn. 

_My luck isn't that good_, Mahiru thought glumly. _If I'm here, alone, and there's a Teardrop, it _has _to be in their hands. Because that would be rotten luck, and that's the only kind I have._

She found herself standing before a darkened door. Darkened to her physical eyes, maybe, but her other eyes saw the Teardrop, shining like a star. It seemed it had made her mind up for her. Mahiru put her hand out and began to slide the door back in tiny increments. The sound of her own heartbeat filled her head, so loud she wasn't sure she'd hear any warning sounds before it was too late. 

_Have to get the Teardrop. If I get it, the others won't have to come here. There won't be another fight. No-one will get hurt._

At last the door stood open enough to let her pass. The room beyond was dark. Holding her breath, Mahiru leaned in. Her physical eyes strained to compensate for moving from the lit hallway to the shadowy room. To her relief, she didn't see any futons or sleeping figures. Instead, she saw what looked like hiker's backpacks piled around some boxes against the back wall. 

The Teardrop was in one of those boxes. This close to the room Koudokui had used, these things could only belong to the Venusians. Moving further into the room, she saw a dull gleam of silver from one of the strange arrowheads the bowman used. Somehow, the shapes etched into that arrowhead hurt the Lunar Race. She wished she had the time to break, or better yet, _burn_ them all. _Get the Teardrop. Get out. Get away._

Strange colors began to dance at the edges of her vision, the pain in her head increasing to something almost intolerable. _Please_, she thought, not knowing what she was really asking for, or who to ask it from. The Teardrop's light was making the headache worse. She sank to her knees, hoping she'd be able to get up again. Moving with careshe didn't want to bump against anything that would clink or clattershe reached out. Could she touch the Teardrop without lighting up herself? 

She didn't know where the Venusians were sleeping, but they had to be nearby. In an inn like this, the rooms opened in on each other. One could make one big space or lots of smaller ones, just by moving the shoji. If she made noise, or lit up like a giant firefly, it would take no time at all for them to recapture her. 

_Not without a fight, this time,_ she thought grimly. She'd scream the place down if she had to, there had to be other people here. With the ropes she had, the marks on her skin, Mahiru felt sure she could get help from strangers just by asking. 

_But what if this is a... a hideout for the Venusians, or something like that? _Then she'd get no help at all. So she'd better be quiet. _I know my luck is terrible, but this isn't for me, it's for them. Please, just once, let it work right. I don't care what happens after. Let me get this back to them!_

She didn't have to search for the right box. She could _see _the Teardrop, as if it were in the open, not shut up in a box. Mahiru lifted the lid. Inside, she saw the brilliant shape of the Teardrop, covered with a filmy gauze. She almost cried in relief. The Teardrop was wrapped in something, probably silk. She could pick it up, carry it without reflecting it. 

Tears of pain and relief blurred her vision. Her hands seemed to break the surface of a clear pond as she reached in for the Teardrop. Ripples around her wrists, shimmering, like the ones that closed over the first princess and her demon after they fell. _I could really step out of this world if I used this_, she realized. She could vanish from this inn, leaving no trace for the Venusians to follow. 

_But I don't know what's on the other side of the water. If I go, I might not be able to come back._

She closed her hands around the Teardrop, lifting it from the box. The ripples smoothed out, until even she couldn't see the water anymore. _Got it. Now get up. Get out. Get away._

Clutching her prize against her chest with one hand, she pushed herself up with the otherand almost fell over onto the stacked bundles. She caught herself, her face inches away from the arrowheads. _I can't do this, _ she thought desperately. _I'm just an ordinary girl. This power uses me, I don't use it._

She felt the ghost of a touch, Nozomu's hands on her shoulders. _"It's okay, Mahiru. Remember, this is only the beginning of things."_ Only the beginning of the story. She wanted to know how it ended, wanted to make it a better ending than the ones she'd read. She wanted to see her friends again. 

She'd escaped from gun fire on a cruise ship in Tokyo Bay. She'd dived into the Sanzu and returned. She'd run for her life in the middle of a spreading fire. _Maybe I can do this._

Mahiru opened her eyes, focusing on her surroundings. Still dark. Still quiet. Just in time, she remembered the severed ropes as well, winding them around the Teardrop to form one lumpy bundle. Pausing at the door, she tried to listen for any sign that she'd woken anyone, drawn anyone's attention. 

Her head hurt so much, she felt sick. Her own heartbeat sounded too loud. She'd just have to risk it. 

Darting out into the hall, she retraced her steps. For once, luck seemed to be with her: she found another exit, one where she wouldn't have to pass through the main entrance and possibly be seen and remembered. She had no idea what time it was, how close it might be to sunrise. Daylight was her enemy now, the cover of night the only real hope she had to make her escape. 

_"Keep this place at your back. Follow the road." _

I don't know why you decided to help me, Himura-san-san, but I won't forget! Mahiru swore silently. Outside, she instinctively looked around. A gravel path curved away from the inn, leading towards the road. Mahiru winced at the thought of walking on that with bare feet. Hugging the Teardrop tighter, she started out, keeping to the grass for as long as possible. 

Eventually, she had to take the path. The small stones felt cold, jabbing at her feet. She found herself wishing for the numbness of before. _At least the air helps my head a bit._ By the time the gravel path ran out against a paved road, she was starting to limp. _This isn't good, _ she thought in a slow-rising panic. _Not good at all_. A twenty-minute car trip could be an hour or more on foot, longer, if she got slowed down. The more time she spent in the open, the greater the chance the Venusians would wake up and find both her and the Teardrop missing. 

Mahiru took a moment to orient herself, turning her back on the inn where the Venusians slept. She stood shivering on the side of the road. Everything hurt, now, and she was cold. She looked down the road, and had serious doubts as to whether she could make it. 

_If I don't, if I don't at least try, the Venusians get the Teardrop and me. And it will be even worse than if I hadn't helped the others at all. _

Well, then, she'd just have to ignore the pain as best she could. And every step she put between herself and this place was one step closer to where she belonged. _They'll look for me, _she thought, taking the first painful step. _I'll bet they're looking for me now. I probably won't have to go the whole way alone._

She started walking, hoping she remembered enough of the trip in to make it back. With the chunk of Teardrop she was carrying she couldn't afford to take help from anyone else, someone who might call the police. _So walk._

The paved road didn't hurt as much as the gravel, but it didn't ease the damage from walking on all those jagged stones. She began humming under her breath, a tuneless scrap of sound to keep herself from noticing the pain. 

The shadows seemed to shift around her as she walked. She shuddered, remembering the shadows outside her parents' car, just before they'd hit the guard rail. _Seeing things... It was daytime, there couldn't have been any shadows. _ Clear day, clear road. There shouldn't have been an accident, either. _Was it me? Did I make it happen?_

She tried to walk faster, to get away from the thought. She could outwalk the words, but not the images. Koudokui's strange power had acted like a stick in a dirty fish tank, stirring up all kinds of things in her mind. No room for darkness, Koudokui had said at the WPF. No room, because the darkness was already there, just like the other world was already there, on the other side of the water. 

That darkness inside her head, inside her heart. She could feel it gnawing at her. When the others sang, she felt the softening of shadows, the promise of a light in the darkness. That promise felt empty, now. Just moonshine. She almost laughed at the thought, stumbling onward. 

The pain in her head wouldn't let up. It made her surroundings blur and streak together, a nightmare viewed through rain. No light, no shadow. No sun, no moon, no stars. A yawning void that devoured everything. Right after the car had hit the guard rail, the bright day had vanished in a red-spangled cloying darkness. After that, the sun had never seemed as bright, except when it reflected off the water. 

The Moon... didn't care about her. She wasn't one of the Lunar Race. She didn't belong anywhere except in a between-place. Not a sun-child, moon-child, star-child. 

A nothing-child. A midnight-child, existing only for a moment. 

Why hadn't someone found her, yet? How long had she been walking? Just thinking about the passage of time thinned the strange trance she was in, let a little more pain seep in. She tightened her grip on the Teardrop, forced herself to keep walking. _Don't stumble. Don't fall._ If she fell, she might drop the Teardrop. She giggled to herself. That sounded funny. But if she dropped it, it might break, and then she'd have to find all the pieces, and then she'd get caught because that would take time. 

She stole a peek at the bundle in her arms, wincing at the way the light increased the pounding in her head. In the center of the light, she saw other hands, a woman's hands, closing around a sparkling gem the size of a baby's head. _Its weight dragged at her, threatened to pull her down before she could complete her task. They have taken his life, they will not take this!_

_No!_ Mahiru wanted to shout. _Don't do it! You'll make it worse!_

But she had no voice in this place, only eyes. All she could do was watch as the other hands lifted the gem as high as possiblethen hurl it down with desperate strength. 

She _felt_ the gem shatter, the force of impact spreading out along fracture lines, the gem exploding into pieces. 

Mahiru groaned, and tore her gaze away from the light inside the Teardrop. She'd stopped moving while the vision had played out. Pearly light stretched upwards from the eastern horizon. Her heart jumped in anxiety. How long had she been standing still? How much time had she lost? She tried to walk faster, but had to slow down again when the pain made her stumble. _I hurt, I hurt, I hurt... everywhere._

She was humming again, the folk song, now. _'Princess, Princess, why do you laugh?' _Well, because crying hurt too much right now. _'The Minister says that he will hide and protect me.'_

_"We promise to protect you, Mahiru, so don't you worry about that." _

Well, aren't you doing a bang-up job on that! Mahiru winced again. Maybe she shouldn't have thought 'bang' so loudly. 

'_Princess, Princess, why are you scared?' _Who wouldn't be scared? The others weren't coming for her. She was alone. And it was her own fault. She should have screamed. She should have fought harder. She should have done something. 

_The gem shattered. _

It was her fault. 

_Familiar figures lying under white sheets. Hands pulling her away. Hands reaching up out of the Sanzu._

All her fault. 

_The darkness was full of moving shapes, shadows that flitted and swirled, hulked and brooded. The darkness was full of brilliant, hungry eyes, watching, waiting. "I say we give this human woman a taste of her own people's medicine."_

Shadows, like outside the car. Like inside her head. Maybe it was better, like this. She saw too much, whether from the light in the Teardrop, or the lights in the sky. She didn't belong under any of those lights. _No refuge_. 

A building hove up into view. She stumbled to a halt and blinked at it. It looked so familiar. No, it _felt_ familiar, too. She put her hand over her heart, where the first thread had taken such tenuous root. _Opportunity. Hunger. You're just a tool. They just take what they want and leave. _

She'd come all this way. It seemed stupid to quit now. She pointed herself at the building and took the first step. Mahiru heard a soft, whimpering sound, realized it came from herself. She should stop that, she thought. Someone might hear her, try to stop her. If she stopped one more time, she knew she'd never be able to move again. 

"Mahiru! Mahiru, where have you _been_?" 

She recognized Junko's voice, and those of her other friends. Not _their _voices, though. _They _ weren't here. They hadn't even known she was gone. She looked down, saw she was standing on a thin carpet. She didn't remember walking inside, but she must have, must have forced herself past those limits. 

"You were gone _all night_, Mahiru. You're in deep trouble, girlie. We're _all _in trouble!" 

Her fault. Again. 

A hand tugged on her shoulder. Obediently, she swung around, but didn't try to lift her head any higher. It really hurt too much. 

"Oh, my God." 

"Somebody get a teacher!" 

Her fault. 

Lights out. 

-tbc-

* * *

_Asako_: In the Afterword of vol. 1 (my copy, at least), this is given as a human name, but by vol. 4, hasn't been matched up with anyone. I decided to use if for Mahiru's light-haired friend with the short spiky hair. 

_kegare:_ In reality, pollution, defilement, or waning of life energy. Roughly corresponds with _shi_ or _sha chi_ in _feng shui_. Something I expect you'd find in the dwelling place of a dying people! Used here as a kind of 'bad vibe' that one might feel in a house where there was death or sickness or violence. __

kaso: practice similar to Chinese geomancy, determines auspicious and inauspicious directions, earth energies, and other forces that can effect the safety and security of a building and the humans within it. 

_omairi_: In reality, this is an act of veneration or worship performed by a visitor entering a Shinto shrine to pray and/or pay respects to the _kami_. With deep respect for those who _do _practice this religion, I've used this word to reflect how the Lunar Race integrates everyday, mundane things like recycling or designing energy-efficient machinery into their veneration for Nature while living in the human world. 

The interpretations and artistic license I've taken with these words are my own, and should not be considered 100 percent accurate translations/transliterations. 

Quoted Songs: (in order)  
_Paleozoic of the Flesh _(J.A. Seazer)  
_Getsumei Fuuei; Illusion of a Shadowed Moon,_ Mika Arisaka 


	7. Clouds and Eclipses

Disclaimer: see part one.

AN: Sometimes, I wonder if I'm cursed. A flood, a very sick cat, and painful flare-up of carpal tunnel delayed this one. (Well, that and the knowledge that you'd all kill me if I posted two cliffhanger chapters in a row.) Hard to update when one is limited to 20 minutes of comp time a day. My apologies, folks. Hope you enjoy this one. :clutches virtual rabbit's foot:

Mood music for this installment: _Shin-Getsu_ (Music From Japan CD), _Mary_ (Tori Amos)

**Sublunary 7: Clouds and Eclipses**  


Misoka drove the van, keeping the chartered bus in sight, but not tailgating. Akira chattered to no-one in particular, stared out the window, and played with the radio until Misoka threatened to set his tail on fire. Nozomu smothered a grin.

"Hey, Fangs, settle down, will ya?" Mitsuru demanded.

"Huh?" Nozomu stared at the tengu beside him.

"Well, you're sighing, can't sit still, you almost smacked me in the head... Are you carsick or what?"

"I don't think shape-changers like us can _get_ motion-sick, Mitsuru," he said.

Mitsuru rolled his eyes. "Watching you sigh after _her_ might do it. The sick part, anyway. Y know, she _usually_ spends this much time away."

"I _know,_" Nozomu snapped. "I just don't like the Princess being someplace we can't get to her if we have to."

Now Mitsuru sighed. "It's a school trip. Trust me, _nothing_ happens on these things."

"Hey, Mitsuru!" Akira hung over the seat. "You went to a school with humans, right? For real, I mean, not pretend, like we did. Did you go to high school and stuff, too?" The werewolf's tail sprouted, looking more like something that belonged on an akita.

"Idiot. Would I _be_ here if I had? I quit after junior high."

Akira's ears drooped. "Aww, but why?"

"Because you can't be really different and go to school." Mitsuru folded his arms and glared out of the side window with such ferocity a nearby car actually slowed down.

"Besides, the good ones are tough _and_ expensive, and so's cram school. You think the state pays out for weird kids who aren't some kind of genius? And what demon in his right mind wants to spend all damn day cooped up with a bunch of noisy humans, anyway? Now shut up about it already."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Nozomu, eyeing Mitsuru, thought there might have been another reason. The vampire used _his_ looks to lure in potential donors. Mitsuru had no use for that ploy, but even waiting tables at the Moonshine, he drew attention--attention he didn't like. _The girls would've loved him, the guys would've hated him for it, and either way, he'd have been mobbed._ Tengu did _not_ do well in crowds.

Misoka grabbed Akira's tail one-handed and yanked. Akira yelped and fell back into his seat.

"Stop slipping form like that," Misoka ordered. "You'll cause an accident if someone sees you."

Nozomu tilted his head back and closed his eyes, tuning them out. He had something _much_ more interesting to concentrate on. Mahiru's blood wound through all he was. A little went a long, long way when one's primary donor was Mahiru Shiraishi. So long as he had some of her blood inside him, he couldn't be separated from her. _She's seventeen_, he cautioned himself. _Still in school. Feeding me doesn't mean she's chosen me._ Besides, she was the Princess. That... complicated things.

"Damn!" Misoka's voice cut across his thoughts. A sudden deceleration shook the rest of the van's passengers like dice in a cup. "Sorry about that."

He looked ahead. Two car lengths ahead of them, a sporty compact stalled in mid-lane, sending up billows of grayish steam. Akira made a gagging noise and hastily rolled up his window, rubbing at his sensitive nose. Already, the other lanes began to snarl into the inevitable knot that formed around a traffic mishap. Through the haze, they could see Mahiru's bus rolling along on its route.

"Great," Misoka sighed.

"I could--" Akira reached for the door handle.

"Don't you dare!" Misoka said. "Too many witnesses, and any illusion I could weave now would fall apart with distance."

"But-"

"We know where she's going, where she'll be," Nozomu said. "We'll catch up."

"I _told _you, _nothing_ _happens_ on these things." Mitsuru flopped back in his seat. "You're wasting your time worrying."

Nozomu sighed and settled back. It looked like they weren't going anywhere for a while.

It took almost an hour for the road to clear, an hour that frayed everyone's nerves with the traffic noise and close quarters. Mitsuru snapped at Akira until Misoka finally lost his patience and snapped back. Only the sudden openness of the road kept it from blossoming into a full-out brawl. They didn't reach the inn until nearly moonrise.

Oboro and Katsura, traveling in a different vehicle, had split away from them. They'd departed for the Moon Palace, taking the recovered Teardrops with them. Nozomu silently cursed their latest orders. The situation at the Moon Palace must be growing desperate if they wanted to perform the dedication with only five Teardrops-and without the Princess.

_He_ was starting to feel the pinch as well. Overnight, it seemed, they'd almost run out of time. Maybe that explained his rash behavior with Mahiru. He held back a shiver. The sickness sweeping through his people affected each race differently. Only the outcome remained the same: madness and death. Nozomu tried to remember any accounts given of vampires falling sick, but came up empty.

The Lunar Race, as a whole, viewed sickness as a _human_ weakness-or a deliberate attempt at poisoning _by_ humans, depending where one stood along the paranoia spectrum. After all, if one dwelt in pure surroundings, untainted by corruption and pollution, one wouldn't get sick. Sickness was a fault, a failure in perception, a shame one hid away.

Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised at their desperate acts. _Humans are so much more sensible about this sort of thing,_ he thought, climbing out of the van. _Get sick, go to a doctor, answer a bunch of nosy questions you'd slug somebody else for asking under different circumstances._ But they _got_ answers. The sick got help. The authorities went _looking_ for sick people, bombarded the media with warnings and updates.

Only when sickness had crept into the Imperial Court itself, in the very heart of the Moon Palace, had action begun. By then...

**Hey. Up here.**

Frowning a little, he scanned their surroundings. The bat he'd given Mahiru spiraled down to him. He got the impression of achy, cramped wings, stuffy air, little food-

"Don't _you_ start," he warned. "And why aren't you with her?"

Nozomu caught brief images of many girls in the same uniform Mahiru wore, a big room. An open window. Mahiru's hands, cradling the bat, then releasing it into the twilight. She'd looked tired, but untroubled.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, waving a hand. "Scoot. Come back for me if there's trouble."

Mitsuru shoved one of the bags at him. "Take one of these will you? And for the grief you people give me for not being careful, why are _you_ spacing out in the parking lot with that damn flying rat ?"

Nozomu scowled at him. _Wait 'til he discovers tengu resonate with beasts, too. Maybe he'll get a mile-long trail of adoring otters and badgers following him for days._ Cheered by the thought, he followed the others inside, bag slung over his shoulder. To Mitsuru's credit, it wasn't the heaviest. They _both_ left _those_ for Akira. Misoka stood waiting for them in the lobby.

"The clerk said all the school students arrived safely, and have already gone to their rooms for the night." By the gleam in the fox-demon's eye, that clerk had been 'encouraged' to part with the information. "Our room is ready, too. Farther away than I'd like, but apparently, they try to separate visiting classes from the regular patrons. We'll arrange to meet up with the Princess tomorrow."

Yawning, Akira pulled a much-folded paper from the pocket of his jeans and held it up. "General sightseeing, tomorrow. I think whoever put this itinerary together read 'Kyoto in a Day', or something."

"Whatever. Gimme the room number." Mitsuru stalked off in the indicated direction, Akira at his heels. Nozomu hung back to talk to Misoka.

"Are you sure this place is secure?"

"Not my first choice," the fox-demon admitted. "The group setting works in our favor, though. She'll be harder to isolate. Many of the entrances here are clear plate glass, and all the gardens can be watched from a balcony like ours--or from above."

Nozomu frowned. "I'd sleep better if she were with us."

"I bet you would."

"Hey, that's _not_ what-" he broke off, spotting the glint in Misoka's eyes. "Damn fox," he muttered.

"It's better you spend time apart, anyway," Misoka said. "Too close, too soon, you'll go mad. That's another reason _he_ waited ten years." "Much good it did either of them," Nozomu muttered. He didn't want to voice his growing suspicion it might already be too late.

Misoka stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I won't allow risk or harm to her. So go slowly, if you intend to continue. Stop now, if you don't."

"Careful, Misoka," Nozomu said lightly. "Your _bushi_ nature is showing." The fox-demon's gaze didn't waver. "She is our Princess. And I've seen first-hand what can happen to those like us who take the road you're on."

Some things you just couldn't argue about with a _kitsune_, especially one of the males. Nozomu just nodded. "I think we're all pretty committed."

"Some more than others."

The vampire sighed. Was _everyone_ going to take a shot at him tonight?

Once settled in their room, he changed for bed, then slipped out onto the balcony. He felt tired, but he wanted some time with the Moon and the night. From a short distance, he heard a car take off in a hurry. He grinned, imagining that _ someone_ needed to get home before a spouse put to two and two together and got a divorce lawyer.

Folding his arms, he looked up into the sky, letting the moonlight wash over him. The Moon gleamed half-full, showing its smoothest face. He missed Mahiru. Beyond her luck, beyond her blood, he missed her. She should be with _them_, watching this moon, sharing this night.

He frowned a little. There it was again, that urge to keep her away from other humans, keep her close by. Some of it stemmed from simple common sense-she couldn't help them if they were separated-and the protective reflexes built up by months of guarding the Princess. Add in how recently she'd fed him-well, Hunger made one a bit possessive, quick to interpret anything as a threat to that bond.

He grimaced. _I'm thinking like Mitsuru now, seeing everything with a distorted view_. Still, he couldn't say he hadn't been warned of the possible dangers.

_"Humans are our weakness," his father had warned him. "You take after me more strongly than you do your mother, so it falls to me to warn you." _

_"Weakness?" Nozomu blinked up at his father. He knew what it meant inside when the Moon got small, but how did humans fit in? _

_"The gods, or kami, if you will, made humans the answer to all we need: respite from hunger, need, loneliness, physical and spiritual warmth." _

_"And _humans_ really do all that?" he asked skeptically. It didn't match up with what he knew of other children in Osaka, the ones who taunted him for his light hair and blue eyes. _

_His father laughed. "Some do. The Children of the Sun burn, some fast, some slow, some so brightly, they seem as stars fallen to earth. I tell you this now, even though I know you don't understand. It is never a question of _if_ we succumb to that fire, but _when_. And when it is time, you will remember what I have told you. And you will do as you have been taught is honorable and wise-from both of us."_

Honorable and wise. Did those words apply to his actions? In Misoka's eyes, at least, he was treading the line. Nozomu smiled, an expression with little humor. With any other human, no-one would have bothered to comment-except perhaps to wonder why he left them alive. But Mahiru was the Descendant of the Princess, and the last of her direct bloodline. Their last hope.

_Her will is still her own. She's free to accept me or refuse me, as she chooses._

Wasn't she?

Or did her remarkable sensitivity tangle the ties between them, holding her more strongly than he realized? If so... If she'd lost that freedom to choose, he would have to surrender his own. _Before Misoka kills me._

Misoka had made a point of making sure he realized how vital a role the Princess played in their hope of salvation. Had the first blood been anything but Opportunity, he'd have conceded the legitimacy of such concern. But Opportunity was the blood of blessing, the sign one waited and hoped for. It _couldn't_ have been bestowed, couldn't even have manifested itself, if it had been wrong to take it.

_Except_, that little voice in his head pointed out, _it was incomplete_. So... wrong to take, or just wrong _then_? He shook his head. Argh. Too much thinking. He'd come out here for some peace of mind, not to rake up more questions he couldn't answer.

He looked back up at the night sky. The Moon showed its most impassive face, offering no guiding counsel. How to find that peace he sought, when his heart and mind were in such tangles? A familiar stirring began within, a push to the only honest expression he knew. He made no conscious choice, stilling his thoughts and allowing the emotions to rise up and take what form they willed. Very softly, so as not to disturb the others, he began.

_'Let us not this parted be,  
Love and absence ne'er agree,_

_  
_The rhthym came slow as a late summer's night, languorous as a lazy river.

___'In your journey, take my heart,  
Which will not deceive.  
Yours it is, to you it flies,  
Joying in those loved eyes.'_

Each verse served as a new discovery, opening windows into his own heart, measuring the depth of feelings he had not dared to examine too closely.

___'Time, nor place, nor greatest smart,  
Shall my bands make free.  
Tied I am, yet think it gain.  
In such knots, I feel no pain.'_

Her presence was muted to a near-whisper. She must be asleep, dreaming her dreams of ancient times. Not once had he given in to the temptation to spy on her while she slept, though it would be so, so easy... He knew, on some level, she would not forgive that. Yet he could hope the same Moon that shone down on them both carried his intent, if not his words, to the one who slept not so very far away.

___'Yes, dear heart, go, soon return.  
As good as there as here to burn.'_

He remained with his head bowed, letting the last of the song drain out of him. He often didn't have this luxury at the Moonshine, with its request lists, and the pressure to meet a crowd's expectations. Except when they sang for the Princess. She always sat quietly, her expression rapt, drinking it in. She never spoke until they seemed ready to hear.

He had his answer now, the tangles of confusion smoothed away. Whatever the future held, Mahiru dwelt at its heart. Daughter of the Sun, Lady of the Moon, the light in his people's darkest hour. Without her, there was no future-at least not one he cared to live in.

When did she become so precious--not just for blessing she might give, but for herself? She'd come so far from the frightened, confused girl he'd first met, overcome so much. She'd faltered, but never fallen; questioned, but never lost faith. If his feelings first sprang from gratitude and attraction, what sustained them now went to places only song could do justice.

A sound from behind him made him turn around. Misoka stood in the doorway, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Akira peered over his shoulder, ears pricked forward.

"What was that?" Misoka asked, keeping his voice low out of respect for the song.

"English," Nozomu answered. "Archaic English, at that. From a poem my father taught me."

He remembered the weighty book spread out before them, his father's patience as he taught his son how to puzzle out words not only written in the wrong direction (to his Japanese eyes), but in an entirely different alphabet. Of all the Bandits, he was the only truly functional bilingual member. Misoka knew more dialects-modern and ancient-than any being he'd ever known, but only he had a strong enough command of English to use it without recourse to a translator or a dictionary.

It had proven amazingly useful in their work.

"Hmn," Misoka said, stepping back to let him back into the room. Mitsuru was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, where's...?" Akira gestured to where Mitsuru had piled up his things.

Nozomu shrugged, unsurprised. "You know how he gets. Music is fine. Singing?" The vampire shook his head.

It had come as a great shock to them to learn that not only had Mitsuru never learned to sing, he loathed the very idea. How could one petition the Moon without song? Unless... Mitsuru didn't believe? To him, the Moon seemed just something to measure his strength by.

Which would explain why he doesn't get how important Mahiru is, Nozomu thought, sighing. "He'll be back when he's feeling better. He's been alone so long, I wonder if maybe he doesn't prefer it that way."

Akira gaped. "Huh? That makes no-"

Misoka reached up and tweaked one of the werewolf's ears. "Your folk are close-knit, Akira, bonds you don't even question. It's not the same for everyone else."

Akira flicked his ear out of Misoka's grasp. "I know that. But even humans... even they want to be around others."

"He always comes back, doesn't he?" Misoka pointed out. "Let him be, Akira. That's one of the things we offered him, remember? A chance to be fully himself. Now get some rest. You and Nozomu are close-guard on the Princess, tomorrow."

The Descendant of the Princess, back in Kyoto. A_ good _sign, he thought, lying down. She brought them so much good. The Moon Palace would see it, too. They had to, for if Master Oboro's theory proved correct-and he'd yet to see Master proven wrong-the only real future the Lunar Race had lay in the blessing she alone could bestow.

___One crisis at a time_, he warned himself. Sleeping at night still took a conscious effort, and if he got all worked up now, he'd be up until sunrise. He closed his eyes, letting the day and its tensions drain away. Tomorrow, they'd find some excuse to seek out Mahiru's group. Once she was in his sight again, he'd feel better...

In his dream, Nozomu walked along a black sand beach. The incoming tide lapped and swirled at his bare feet, rising as high as his ankles. He could see flower petals bobbing in the surf, tumbling in the sea foam. Rose petals of every color, whole lilies, the budding heads of irises, even a peony. He continued walking, his feet leaving no imprints on the firm, water-packed black sand. The narrow ribbon of shoreline gleamed like marcasite.

A full moon hung overhead, so large and golden he could see as well as by day-better, even. He wasn't sure where he was walking to, or even where he was, but it had been too long since he'd had a night of peace.

Except Mahiru wasn't here, nor any of his friends. Contrary to legend, vampires were actually social creatures, unhappy with extended solitude. Such a beautiful place. Why wasn't Mahiru with him? Daughter of the sun she might be, but she loved the sea, and he knew she had room in her heart for the Moon. She should see these waters strewn with flowers, like offerings for the beach-

___"Nozomu."_

He stopped, looked around. From horizon to horizon, he couldn't see any sign of another living thing.

___"Nozomu!"_

He jolted awake as a rough hand shook his shoulder. Light from the east struck his eyes and he winced. Much to his personal distaste, sunrise was well underway. He could bear daylight--he just liked to put off dealing with it for as long as possible.

**Open up! Open open open!**

One of his bats beat its wings against the window. A twinge of anxiety went through him. Stupid thing... it could hurt itself like that._What, you think you're a bird, now, flying into closed windows?_

Mitsuru jabbed at his shoulder again. "Will you shut that thing up before it wakes up the entire place?"

"A little louder next time, Mitsuru, and you can have the job yourself." Nozomu pushed back his blankets and stumbled for the window._What do I hate most about morning? All the parts before sundown._

The others were stirring, awakened either by the bat or Mitsuru. He opened the window and the frantic bat flew in, dipping and swirling around him. He recognized it as the one he'd given Mahiru. He held up his hand, offering it a place to perch.

___She wouldn't have sent the bat unless something was wrong. _Why did she send the bat instead of calling for him through it?_Idiot. She's surrounded by other humans. She _can't_ call for me that way right now._ But what could be wrong? This soon after sunrise, she should still be asleep. They wouldn't be waking her this early to prepare for a sightseeing tour, would they?

The bat refused to settle, instead flying in ever-wider, erratic circles in the room, scattering mental images in its wake. He heard Mitsuru curse.

"I thought you could control these damn things. Get it out of the room before I throw it out."

Nozomu ignored him, concentrating on sorting the images the bat sent him. An untouched futon, a familiar bag resting beside it. Mahiru's friends from school, sleepless themselves with anxiety. The night stars wheeling across the sky, marking the passing hours. Angry voices, frightened whispers. And then back to that untouched pile of bedding.

"She's not_here_?" he said out loud.

_That_woke everyone else in a hurry.

"The Princess?" Misoka asked, reaching for the glasses he needed in his human form.

"I... think so," Nozomu said, distracted. "This is the one I gave her... wait... "

In his ears, the bat's keening grew even shriller. The images darkened, falling away from the safe, modern inn. Outside, now... a dark road-___Mahiru!_ He could see her weaving along the side of the road, barely staying on her feet. She clutched something to her chest, something the bat's eyes couldn't distinguish. Or maybe she was in pain, or- ___Still dark in that scene_, he noted. _But the sun's risen, now._

"How long did it take you to drag your fat self back here?" he demanded of the bat, grabbing a wing. _"__Where is she now!"_He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Misoka hissed a warning for quiet.

"Mahiru's not here?" Akira asked.

"Not from what this one says," he said, glaring at the fluttering bat. "She's been missing most of the damn _night _and this idiot shows up just _now_ to tell me!"

Why hadn't the idiot bat stayed with her? More importantly, he thought as he yanked on his clothes, how could she have vanished at night without so much as disturbing his dreams?_She promised me she'd be more careful! _Even without Need to carry a cry from spirit to spirit, the simple fact of a threat to her safety should have colored his dreams. Instead, he got a flower-strewn sea and a pretty walk on a beach.

Flowers on the sea... like lanterns floated for the dead.

His hands shook as he did up the last of the fastenings on his clothes. He grabbed his sunglasses, cramming them into his shirt pocket. Mahiru was human. For all her gifts and raw talents, would she even know how to dreamwalk, much less send a clear message? He remembered her telling him about her dreams, how vivid they'd seemed to him.

She knew. She'd been doing it all along, he realized, just didn't know enough to give it a name, or understand what she actually did. His damn fault for not figuring it out sooner.

"Nozomu?" Misoka asked, somehow already dressed and waiting. A world of questions in that one word.

"Nothing!" he spat. "Not a thing! Not a glimmer, not a warning. Until Fatty here," he waved at the bat, "showed up, I thought she was sleeping."

"A ward could have concealed her from us," Misoka mused, "but she doesn't know that kind of magic.

_"__They_ do." He'd seen the talisman Dawn's Venus plastered to the cage imprisoning Akira. But how would they know to go after Mahiru? Even if they'd gotten a good look at her at the WPF, they could have no idea how important she was to the survival of the Lunar Race.

"Unless they thought she was one of us," he finished out loud. An even worse thought whisked through his mind._Or they mean to use her for bait._

Misoka gave the vampire a sharp look_. __So you thought of that, too._ If Dawn's Venus thought Mahiru was of the Lunar Race, they'd strike first and learn of their mistake far too late. As bait- she was irresistible.

"I would know if she'd died," he said, mostly to convince himself than anyone else. A frayed thread hurt. Two broken threads should have dragged him screaming out of his sleep. Could even Dawn's Venus craft a ward powerful enough to conceal the death of their Princess?__

___No. I won't, I _can't_, __believe they've grown so strong and we've become so weak!_

"Just perfect. Akira, outside," Misoka ordered. "See if you can find any trace of her. And don't let the humans see you!"

The werewolf nodded and loped out of the room, for once keeping to his human form.

"We really dropped the ball on this one," Nozomu muttered. "All four of us here, how the hell did this happen?"

Misoka didn't bother to dignify that with a response. "First, we need to learn if her friends know anything."

Mitsuru grimaced at the idea of being confronted with a gaggle of girls this early in the morning, but he said nothing, falling in with them as they left the room. In the hallway, they heard raised voices, running feet. One of the inn's attendants approached them.

"We are very sorry for the disturbance. Please, return to your rooms. Calm will be restored shortly.

Nozomu drew breath to speak-and Misoka hit the unsuspecting human with a focused burst of his hypnotic compulsion.

"Tell me what has happened to the visiting students."

The attendant's face went slack, dark eyes glazing over. "One of the girl students... has been injured. It didn't happen here, the inn is not responsible-"

"Idiot!" Misoka pushed past him.

Nozomu steered the still tranced-out attendant to the side, so she could lean against the wall. It wasn't like Misoka not to 'clean up' after himself after using his power. He's really worried. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Misoka seemed... scared. Halfway to the commotion, they met up with Akira.

"Akira! Did you find her? Was she the one hurt?" Misoka asked.

Akira nodded. His piercings looked cast-iron black against his pallid skin. "It's bad, guys."

Nozomu pushed past Misoka to grab a handful of Akira's loose robe. "___How_ bad?"

"I'm not sure, they made me leave before I could get a good look. She's bleeding, though, I could smell it. And that dark-haired guy, the one whose voice did all that weird stuff," Akira said quietly. "I could smell him, on Mahiru's clothes. The other one, too, the one with the bow."

There was a collective wince at the memory.

"And..." Akira's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Another girl? But there wasn't a girl with them last time. Maybe it was one of her friends."

"Koudokui," Misoka said, as if the name were a curse.

Bleeding... Blood she'd given freely to him, spilled by some careless human hand. Wasted. Raw anger surged through him, pushing him towards a shape better suited for expressing it. He could feel her now, a muted presence that seemed far too frail. He'd failed his princess, after he-after they all-had promised to protect her. His human shape shivered. The Moon was waxing, he had his power-charm, it would take only a little more effort. Akira gaped at him.

"Get control of yourself, Nozomu," Misoka said, low-voiced. "Remember where we are."

Oh, he knew exactly where they were: in the middle of a disaster. Dawn's Venus had taken their princess. They'd hurt her, here, in this city that had once been the home of his people. Insult, injury, and insult again. He'd collect from that Koudokui bastard_ personally._

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes. ___Mahiru comes first, _he reminded himself. No good would come of transforming now. He didn't know where Koudokui was, couldn't take the time now to hunt him. He let the breath out slowly, feeling his body settling, falling back into his human shape.

"Akira, where is she now?"

"They-the teachers from her school, I mean-were taking her to another room."

"Damn. We have to get her back, get her away from here."

"She's hurt," Akira protested. "Shouldn't we let a doctor take care of her first?"

"We've been too careless with her safety," Misoka said. "I will not leave her unguarded in human hands- -or in a place_they _know to look for her."

There was no arguing with Misoka when he used that tone. After making sure they were unobserved, Misoka put on an illusion of Master Oboro. Following Akira's directions, they started for the room where Mahiru had been taken. With every step, Nozomu's sense of Mahiru grew sharper. They had to have hidden her from him, using their damn pentagrams and corrupted spells. Hidden her, so they could hurt her.

Beasts in human form, they called the Lunar Race._Looked in a mirror lately?_ he seethed at the mental image of the gloating thugs._Why did they let her go? Did they realize she's a human? _Except nothing he'd ever been taught about Dawn's Venus included an account of that kind showing mercy. A human who helped the Lunar Race was even worse than demonkind, so far as they were concerned.

A small cluster of humans stood outside the room Akira indicated. Nozomu wrestled down the urge to snarl at them to make way._Damned gossips,_ he thought in disgust.___Running their mouths instead of doing their jobs. _Halfway there, Misoka paused.

"Not possible," he breathed.

Nozomu stirred, about to ask when the answer slapped up against his own senses.

A Teardrop. Or was it Mahiru? He narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint just where it was coming from. His sense of Mahiru and of a possible Teardrop tangled together. He couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It might not even be a Tear, but just an echo of one, sensed through his ties to Mahiru. He couldn't make his focus any sharper. Useless. He'd never been good at this sort of thing.

Misoka glanced at him. Nozomu gave the smallest of nods in acknowledgment. A Teardrop, their Princess taken and injured, Dawn's Venus in Kyoto... it had all the earmarks of a trap. Not as elaborate as the one that had ensnared Akira, but possibly more dangerous. At the WPF, the black tent had offered some concealment, allowing them some chance at fighting back. Here, surrounded by humans, their options were much more limited.

One of the lurkers outside Mahiru's room glanced up, did a double-take at seeing the disguised Misoka.

"Oh!"

"I am Oboro Kurosaki," Misoka announced, using Master's exact inflection. A singer as good as Misoka also did mimicry quite well. "Mahiru Shiraishi is in my employ. I am led to understand that an incident has occurred?"

"Ah... " The other adults glanced at each other.

Nozomu didn't need any special gift to sense their thoughts.

A female student, disappearing at night, only to reappear bloody and injured. The scandal! It would certainly reflect on the school, and someone would be forced to retire for this. The school sought to keep face. The inn sought to keep face, the teachers... For once, he empathized with Mitsuru's tendency to express himself through violence.

"Perhaps," Misoka began, and Nozomu could feel the wave of compulsion rolling out, it would be best to release Shiraishi-kun to my care. There is no need to disturb others, all will be seen to, this matter can be resolved without trouble."

It was exactly what they wanted to hear. Katsura couldn't have done a better job. With token protests, the other teachers faded back. A dour-looking woman opened the door and let them in, giving them their first glimpse of Mahiru.

She sat curled in an armchair, almost huddling in on herself. The blood Akira had smelled smeared in dry streaks over half her face, down to her chin. She cradled something to her chest, the bundle he'd seen from the bat's perspective. From Misoka's harsh breath, he knew it had to be the Teardrop. An older woman, presumably one of the chaperones, kept trying to get Mahiru's attention. Mahiru flinched away and curled up smaller.

The sight woke something in them all, even Mitsuru. Without conscious thought, they spread out through the room, blocking the only exit. Any human who did not make way, who stood between them and their Princess...

The woman who'd escorted them in hurried forward. "Shiraishi-kun, Kurosaki-san is here."

Mahiru stirred at that, lifting her head. Her eyes were darkly bloodshot, the skin beneath them so shadowed it looked bruised. Nozomu had never seen a living person so pale. The chaperone reached for Mahiru's arm again

"Shiraishi-kun?"

___Stop pestering her!_ Nozomu thought, resisting the urge to yank the woman back. A stranger so close to Mahiru made him twitchy. Mahiru began to straighten up in the chair, her gaze fixed in their direction.

Now, Nozomu could see the rusty stains on her pajama top, where blood had dripped and splattered against the fabric. He could think of too many ways for that blood to have been drawn. All of them made him want to drop Koudokui from a great height and hear his bones shatter against bare rock. The anger flexed its claws inside him again, testing the limits.

He found it difficult to breathe._How... **dare** he... put his filthy, murdering hands on our Princess? How dare they think to keep her from us?_ In an earlier time, such presumption would have cost the wretch his life._Perhaps it's time to revive the practice_. He hated wasting blood-but a tainted soul like Koudokui's curdled the blood. What had already spoiled couldn't be wasted.

Mahiru looked up at Misoka, and Nozomu had the feeling she didn't see the illusion at all. With great care, Mahiru held out the bundle she'd clutched in her arms. Lengths of thin, sturdy climbing rope looped around and around a silk-wrapped object, making it twice its original size. More reddish-brown stains splotched the cords.

"What is that?" the chaperone asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"Not your concern," Misoka replied. "Moegi-san, if you would... ?"

It took Nozomu a moment to realize Misoka meant him. He almost never used the name in relation to himself, except when having to deal with the paperbound human world. He stepped forward, purposefully shouldering the chaperone aside.

"One moment, what is going on here?" The chaperone looked from Misoka to the teacher who had escorted them in.

"Kurosaki-san wishes Shiraishi-kun returned to his care. We are in agreement that this is the best solution."

_"__I _was not consulted on this. Shiraishi-kun's legal guardian is her aunt. I insist she be contacted before we allow these strangers to leave with one of our students!"

"How very_diligent_ of you," Nozomu said through his teeth. "Pity you didn't show such care and concern last night. This might not have happened."

"Moegi-san," Misoka said. The fox-demon's tone remained even, but Nozomu could hear the unspoken warning._Stay in control. There's too much at stake to indulge in temper._

"I will not be spoken to in such a manner! Who are-" the woman began.

"We do not hold you responsible," Misoka interrupted, a breach of manners the fox-demon would never have stooped to had the situation not been so grim. "Shiraishi-kun's guardian will be contacted. However... wouldn't it be better for all..."

He left dealing with the humans to Misoka. Mahiru's hands lay slack in her lap, as if she'd given up the last of her strength along with the Teardrop. He crouched down, looking into her face.

"Mahiru-chan?" he asked.

She blinked, and he thought he saw a spark of recognition. He didn't know if the tightness in his chest came from the ties between them or the whiplash recoil of the fear-relief-horror run his emotions had taken. He brushed her hair back out of her eyes, taking care just to touch the right side of her face. The feel of dried blood under his fingertips, knowing it was ___her_ blood, the same blood that ran through him, would be more than he could stand.

"We'll take you back with us," Nozomu said, watching for her reaction. "Are you ready?"

After a long moment, she gave a slow nod. He shifted so he could gather her up in his arms. ___So small... she's so small, like this._ It was then he saw the rope burns on her wrists and neck

___I'll kill him,_ Nozomu thought._Some day, someway, I'll kill him for this._ Nozomu looked down at Mahiru's pale, still face. _Though if there's anything like justice, I'll find a way to- what am I thinking? _Violence done in her name was the last thing Mahiru would want. What he wanted... had to be set aside, left to simmer in that hot, dark place where dark dreams of blood and vengeance kept their restless watch.

With Mahiru nestled trustingly in his arms, Nozomu started for the door. Out in the hall, he wished he-or one of those jaw-flapping humans- had thought to get her a blanket. Mahiru was a modest girl. The first thing she'd done, at their first meeting, had been to gather her skirt around her knees, blushing tomato red. She'd hate the very idea of being carried around a public space in her pajamas, her injuries exposed for all to see

Akira rushed up beside him, still keeping a human face, Nozomu noted with relief. The werewolf held up what looked like an oversized bath sheet. Apparently, he wasn't the only one aware of Mahiru's vulnerability.

"All I could find nearby," Akira said apologetically.

"Good job." He stopped to allow Akira to drape the sheet around Mahiru.

A wave of anxiety and relief washed over him, in jagged resonance with his own feelings._...she's sick but she'll get better she's with us now-_ Akira drew back, and the sense of outside emotions faded_. __How does she do that?_ he wondered. The sensation was familiar to him, very like speaking through one of his bats._Does she even know she's doing it?_

It had been so long since one of the Lunar Race encountered a blessing-bearer, so long that any real knowledge of those abilities had been lost or distorted to the point of uselessness. Even Misoka, the acknowledged expert on the properties of the Teardrops and their legends, couldn't say what Mahiru was capable of.

"Misoka says to go straight out to the van. I've got the keys," Akira said in a low voice. "Mitsuru's getting our stuff."

"Bet he's loving that," Nozomu sighed. He made no attempt to mask his relief._We're getting her out of here._ Misoka, as usual, had been right. They'd been too careless, with Mahiru, with the Teardrops, with everything. They could no longer afford mistakes.

"I'll go help him once--" Akira glanced down at Mahiru, swallowed hard. His eyes seemed too bright.

"Steady," Nozomu murmured. "We're not done yet."

Akira gulped and nodded. "Right. Let's go."

The van stood where they'd left it the night before. Its sturdy box-like shape stood out among the compacts, company cars, and family vehicles that usually occupied a hotel's parking garage. Akira held up a hand, gesturing for Nozomu to stop.

"Let me check it out first," he warned.

There was no reason to believe their vehicle had been tampered with. There'd been no reason to believe Mahiru would be a target for Dawn's Venus, either. Reason, it seemed, no longer applied.

He watched Akira prowl around the van. The werewolf knew little about machinery, but nothing could be planted on or in the van without leaving a scent-trail he could detect. Mahiru stirred in his arms, trying to raise a hand to block out the brighter light. She looked a little green, Nozomu noted. Akira came back to them.

"It's okay."

"Get the door, would you? I think the light and the smell are getting to her."

Akira wrinkled his nose. "Garages reek," he agreed.

With Akira's help, he settled Mahiru into one of the rear seats. She made an odd picture, her bare feet dirty, her pajamas wrinkled and stained. The dried blood on her face seemed permanently set, like Mitsuru's markings.

"I gotta go back and help Mitsuru. You going to be all right down here alone?" Akira asked.

"Misoka's got one of the bats. I'll give a yell if anything happens," he assured him. "Don't take too long, though."

Akira grinned, far from his usual manic cheer, but no longer the devastated expression of before. "We cleared out her old room in twenty minutes. This is nothing."

Nozomu waited until Akira had gone back into the hotel before climbing into the van himself and closing the door. Mahiru didn't seem to have so much as blinked. She looked as pale as a snow-maiden.

"Mahiru-chan?"

At the sound of his voice, she blinked, but gave no other response. Moving with care so as not to startle her, he touched the back of her hand. To his relief, the skin felt warm.

"I know you can hear me. Mahiru-chan... I'm sorry. We failed you, I'm sorry." He took her limp hand in his. "But I swear to you, this will never happen again. They will never get near you again, not so long as we live and breathe. Mahiru?"

No response at all

This is wrong, this is all wrong. Her injuries aren't serious enough to cause this. What in the Six Realms did that bastard do?__He glanced out the windows, checking their surroundings. No sign of the others, yet. Have a little patience, he chided himself. Akira had just left. It took time to clear out the room, check out, pay up-and who knew if Misoka had finished with the humans, yet?

Still, the longer they delayed, the greater the chance of the Venusians picking up their trail. He hoped Misoka had recovered enough to remember to 'clean up' after bespelling the humans. All the Venusians needed was one name, one report of a group of people who came late and left early. Hell, all they needed was someone remembering seeing Akira, with his distinctive piercings, and recognizing him as the 'beast' they'd captured at the WPF.

Oh, they hadn't been careful enough. Nowhere near. And Mahiru had paid for it. Gently, he turned their clasped hands over. Her left wrist looked worse than the right, due in no small part to the old bruise left from when she'd fed him. Was it this? he wondered. Had it been this mark which betrayed her?__

___"If any harm comes to the Princess because of you... you will answer to me."_

Well. If this wasn't harm...

"I'm sorry, Mahiru. If I have to spend the rest of my life making up for this, I will-"

Of course, if Mahiru stayed in this condition, his life wouldn't_be_ very long._Fair trade_, Nozomu thought. Whoever tied her had to have seen the bruise. He held no illusions that a member of Dawn's Venus wouldn't recognize a healing vampire bite. How could I have been so careless, so sloppy?

Because he'd been selfish.

No, because he'd been_weak. _He should have refused her offering. Instead, he'd allowed her nearness, her generosity, to overwhelm his common sense. He'd wanted her for himself, though he knew Mahiru could never be his alone. Accepting her offering allowed him to pretend, just for a short time, that he didn't have to share her with anyone else. Greedy, selfish, stupid- -and incompetent.

He cupped the right side of her face. "Come back to us, Mahiru-chan," he tried again. "You're safe now. Wherever you've gone, come back."

He could feel the wash of Mahiru's power, but not the Princess herself. She sat beside him, a physical presence, but terrifyingly absent in spirit. What happened during the night to drive her so far even he couldn't sense her? Or was she lost, wandering in some shadowy place between dream and waking?

_We need Katsura_he thought. As much as it galled him to admit someone else might be able to reach Mahiru, the dream-demon might be the only one who could find wherever the Princess had gone. Except Katsura was at the Moon Palace, attending on Master Oboro. Misoka would have to try and contact him once they had the Princess secure.

The longer they delayed, the greater the chance that Mahiru might slip away from them entirely. They were supposed to be Mahiru's protectors, yet they were helpless to aid her now. Without certain knowledge of what had been done to her, they couldn't formulate a plan to counteract the damage. And once again, Mahiru suffered for their ignorance.

He shook his head, disgusted at himself._We were chosen for this task because of all those living among our Race, we had the best knowledge of the human world. Our 'best' doesn't seem like anything at all. _He studied Mahiru's face, searching for any glimmer of awareness. A gift-doll for Girls' Day might be more expressive._We kept ourselves apart, for pride, for fear, for any number of reasons. You can't reach your destination using only a half-drawn map. And what have we lost along the way?_

* * *

The new hotel was starkly Western in design, catering to tourists and visiting businessmen. Nozomu understood why Misoka preferred this type of setting: thick, solid walls, heavy doors with strong locks. More privacy, better security, and a level of anonymity impossible at a more traditional inn. 

They booked two rooms connected by a door that locked from either side. Nozomu carried Mahiru, refusing to let anyone else touch her. This physical body seemed his only remaining tie to Mahiru. He couldn't surrender it now if he tried. He could not let go,_ would not, _until their Princess returned.

He settled himself at her bedside, paying no heed to the doings of the others. Mahiru slipped into a deep, heavy sleep, the last refuge of the sick and the wounded. In the months since discovering the Princess, Nozomu had seen her in a myriad of situations, observed her reactions to all manner of acts. Even reviving Mitsuru hadn't left her so drained.

Whatever Koudokui had done, it wreaked even more damage than drawing the newly dead back to life. Death-shock was supposed to be worst trauma for a person as sensitive as Mahiru. There really are things worse than death, he mused. And it was his fault she was facing them now, alone.

"Nozomu."

He raised his head, blinking, and looked around. To his surprise, the shadows had shifted and stretched across the room, the sunlight deepening into the richer golds and reds of early evening. Almost the entire day had passed, with no change.

Misoka stood in the doorway that connected the two rooms. "Katsura is en route, and should join us by nightfall."

He watched his hands, seemingly of their own volition, curl into loose fists. "You reached the Moon Palace, then? What... did Master say?"

"He bade us take care of the Princess."

Misoka's voice was so even, Nozomu had to look up at him to assure himself he wasn't being mocked. The fox-demon wore his most inscrutable mask. In his hands, he held the silk-wrapped Teardrop. He carried it into the room and set it on the small bedside table. The gem cast a tiny dazzle-burst of refractions against the wall.

"He suggested we leave this one with her, for now," Misoka explained, though Nozomu had not asked. "The Tears called to her once, they might do so again."

A slim hope. Why should Mahiru answer the call of a cold jewel when the entreaties of one who lo-. He stopped the thought in its tracks._Admit it now, even to myself, and it will be more than I can bear. To find her, then to lose her... Father, why wasn't this ever included in your warnings? _

"She risked a great deal to bring this one back to us," Misoka continued. "It may be she has some deeper connection with this particular fragment_- -"_

"So even Master Oboro is grasping at straws," Nozomu said, resting his head against his hands.  
"The Tears shine for Mahiru. They know her for their own. Why would one be more important than any other?"

"So many of the other things we believed to be true have proven false. The Princess, her powers, the Tears, they are all pieces of a living mystery. In that mystery is our last hope. So we put them together, and pray, because at this point, I truly do not see what else we can do.

They both fell silent, watching the Princess as she drifted in her world of shadows.

"It's my fault. My weakness that betrayed her," Nozomu said abruptly.

"Nozomu... You didn't... ?"

Hearing the unspoken question, Nozomu shook his head. "Just the two. No further. But the marks are still there. They had to have seen."

He waited, expecting to hear the fox-demon's promised retriubtion. Unlike Mitsuru, he had no illusions that he could stand against Misoka. He almost welcomed the thought of the flames. When Misoka remained silent, he risked a glance in the fox-demon's direction.

Misoka's gaze rested on their sleeping princess. It seemed he'd forgotten Nozomu's very existence.

___"__Kanrisha-san..._"

Without looking at him, Misoka said, "I've found experience to be the best disciplinarian in situations like this. There is nothing I can do that could be worse that what you're doing to yourself. If I were to act, it might even give you an undeserved respite."

Nozomu winced. For all that the fox-demons loved their games and riddles, they could be blunt to the point of brutality when it suited them.___And I deserve it for putting her at risk. All this, and more._

"What did he do?" Nozomu asked, low-voiced and urgent. "What could do this?"

Misoka sighed and made an unnecessary adjustment to his glasses.

"The powers the Koudokui cultivate, aside from foreign sorcery, disrupt and disturb," he said at last. "For us, this means interfering with our resonance with the natural world. Since she seemed unharmed by their acts at the WPF, I had believed the Princess immune to their workings. Obviously, I was mistaken."

"Being exposed to their hatred made her sick. Could that have done this?" He remembered how she'd reacted to sensing his own hunger. Had he made her more vulnerable?

"We can speculate until the sun turns cold. It doesn't matter."

Now Nozomu heard the anger he'd been braced for. In a strange way, he found it comforting, a normal reaction in an abnormal situation.

"What we have to deal with is that, using those foreign sorceries, Koudokui succeeded in driving the Princess's spirit into darkness," Misoka said, as brisk and no-nonsense as if discussing an upcoming job. "We need to find a light that can reach her, and bring her back to us."

"I can't reach her, I've tried," Nozomu admitted. "Katsura may be our only hope. And if that-"

Misoka squeezed his shoulder, urging him to silence. "Nozomu."

The fox-demon stared, his distant mask crumbling away. Nozomu looked back to Mahiru.

Her eyes were open.

tbc-

* * *

AN: 

Further notes: Nozomu's 'song' is actually a poem by Lady Mary Wroth, called "Song 28", using lines 5-6, 9-12, 15-18, and 23-24. (Text source: Norton Anthology of English Literature, vol. 1.)


	8. Sombra de la Luna

Disclaimer: see part one.

**Abject Groveling:** My deepest apologies for the delay. Family matters surfaced that _had_ to be dealt with at once, followed by fallout from Katrina. (Lots of family in New Orleans.) But I'm back now, and to reward your patience: BIG update!

Mood Music: _Moonlight Sonata _(Beethoven), _Entrada (Final Fantasy OST)_  
A/N: Doubled space between paragraphs indicates a flashback.

**Sublunary 8: Sombra de la Luna**

He'd stopped checking his watch after Misoka glared him into stillness. Maybe another vampire, one who could only thrive and function at night, might have developed more patience over the years. Nozomu wasn't used to waiting. _Better to take the time to do it right than to rush and make a mistake,_ he reminded himself. A rational thought. A logical conclusion. One oh, so easy for the _kitsune_ to reach, since it wasn't _his_--

He snapped that thought off like a rotting thread. He couldn't put words to exactly what Mahiru was to him, personally. For Misoka, a _kitsune_ who'd taken on the duty of guarding their Princess-- No, he wouldn't want a look inside Misoka's head right now for blood in ruby cups.

_This has to work_, Nozomu thought, watching the door. If Katsura failed, the chances of Mahiru recovering on her own looked bleak.

Katsura had relayed the message, her eyes downcast to show her shame at having to speak such words. Then, unbelievably, it had gotten worse. "The Emperor wishes the return of the recovered Teardrop," she'd said. "I am to return, with the Tear, in no more than two hours."

"Two hours? Can you help Mahiru and return with the Tear, in such a short time?" he'd asked.

"The Princess's welfare was not mentioned," Katsura said, keeping her eyes lowered. "By Lord Oboro's grace, I was given extra time."

Nozomu scowled. "She's been like this all damn day. We still don't know what he _did_- -what spell, curse, whatever! She needs more than two hours!"

"It's all I've been given, Nozomu. I dare not defy the Emporer. These are the orders given to me in his name, by way of the Lady Masumi."

_Whoops._

Nozomu didn't quite turn his eyes away in time, saw Misoka's face go chalk- pale. His lips pressed into a thin line. Yet even as he watched, the fire of the _kitsune'_s anger grayed into ash. Of all the Bandits, only Misoka could claim any real rank- -and his aunt, as the Emperor's handmaid, ranked higher than that. Misoka didn't even have a courtesy title. The rest of them were considered servants in Oboro's household. They wouldn't have even been allowed to raise their heads in the imperial presence--had they even been allowed to enter the room--much less _speak_ or protest.

Still, they had to try. Katsura disappeared into Mahiru's room, barring them all from entering. The Princess's privacy had to be preserved, especially while Katsura attempted to do so much in so little time. And they rest of them sat outside and tried not to chew the furniture in frustration. _The Palace is willing to sacrifice Mahiru for the Tear. Damn it, what are they thinking over there? _Nozomu fumed, his thoughts skirting dangerously close to treason. _If we lose Mahiru, we lose it all. Do they really believe that this Tear will reverse things when the other five haven't? We **need** the Princess's power--and so we need to heal Mahiru, too! Who the hell is advising milord Shirogane in this? This isn't something he'd come up with on his own!_

He shook his head. Damned court intrigues. Small wonder so many of the Lunar Race were making their homes in the human world. Even with its pollution and corruption, it felt cleaner than the poisonous sweetness that passed as pleasant interaction at court.

The connecting door swung open and his thoughts scattered. He looked up hopefully. Katsura pulled the door closed behind her, then turned to face them. Instead of the silk-shrouded Tear she'd been sent to retrieve, she carried a wide-mouthed basin, half-filled with some sort of liquid. He could make out a damp pile of bandages just peaking over the rim. The sharp scent of iodine and isopropyl alcohol stung his nose and eyes.

"I took the liberty of examining and dressing the Princess's wounds," Katsura said. "Given how the Tears often resonate with Mahiru and how long this one gem has been in her keeping, I deemed it best to ascertain just how serious her injuries were--lest they have a diminishing effect on the Tear. If I have strayed too far from my mandate, I will answer for it."

It was a perfect court-tailored speech, a pretty bit of moonshine she could spin out to placate the nobles of the court. It didn't fool any of _them._

"How fares the Princess?" Misoka asked.

Katsura took a moment to brush her hair back out her face before answering. She looked no happier with these circumstances than the rest of them. "Her wounds are not serious, so long as they're kept clean."

"That's great," Nozomu said, feeling his last strands of patience fraying, "but what _else_?"

"Did she say anything?" Akira chimed in. "About what happened?"

"I... I'm not sure she even knew I was there," Katsura admitted. "She responds when asked to move or hold still, nods or shakes her head if asked a yes-or-no question. She gave no indication that she knew where she was, or who was with her."

Well that wasn't anything they hadn't known before. He eyed the dream-demon. _She's stalling_, he realized. And that did not bode well.

"Did you try to reach her?" Nozomu demanded. "If she's in that condition, you _have_ to be able to reach her. Misoka's hypnosis worked on her just fine- - and she was wide-awake and alert, then."

"Nozomu..." Misoka cautioned. His voice remained even, but Nozomu saw how his fists clenched behind his back.

"I- - Under most circumstances, I would be able to. However..." The dream-demon hesitated. "Well, perhaps it would be best if you saw for yourselves. Please come with me."

"What, is she growing horns, or something?" Mitsuru scoffed.

Katsura winced. Nozomu shook his head. Mitsuru had never met a member of the Silver Horn clan in their true form. _He just paid her a compliment. Good thing he doesn't realize it._ The thought gave him a moment's cheer.

"No, nothing like that. I just need you to verify something for me."

"She's a damn human, that's all the verification you'll get from me," Mitsuru announced. He straddled the desk chair, turned to face Mahiru's room. "The rest of you want to go in and gawk, go ahead."

Nozomu bristled, but before he could reply, Misoka stepped in. "Let him be. Katsura, will the three of us be enough?"

Katsura watched a determinedly oblivious Mitsuru for a moment, then sighed. "We'll see."

Katsura led them back into Mahiru's room. The dream-demon had cleaned away the last of the dried blood, combed back her hair, and dressed her in a loose gown. The blanket had been pulled up to her chin, her hands folded over her chest. White gauze bandages showed at her wrists, around her throat.

It reminded Nozomu of the night Mitsuru died. They'd laid him out much the same way. His hand twitched in a small warding gesture to turn back the ill-omen.

_She's not dead_, he reminded himself. _Just sleeping_.

She still looked much too pale.

One by one, they came to Mahiru's bedside, forming a ragged circle around her. Nozomu could see nothing that warranted Katsura's concern- -aside from the very condition that had led them to call for her in the first place.

"What is it, Katsura?"

Katsura stood near the head of the bed. "Come closer, all of you. Reach out to her, and tell me what you feel."

"Do we really have time for this?" Nozomu asked.

"Nozomu, please," the dream-demon murmured. "I can't trust my own senses in this matter. You all sense the Moon in a different way from my kind, so only you can confirm or deny this."

Nozomu blinked, then looked back down at Mahiru. That sounded ominous. Misoka responded first, stretching out a hand towards the Princess's arm. With only an inch between his fingertips and contact, he hesitated, then drew back. For the first time, Nozomu saw clear shock on the fox-demon's face.

"It can't be," Misoka murmured, his hand curling into a fist. "It..."

"What? She hasn't lost the blessing, has she?" Nozomu asked, looking from Misoka to Katsura.

Misoka shook his head, staring down at the sleeping Princess. "No, far from it," he breathed. "I understand your concern now, Katsura. I- -am not sure I believe it myself."

Misoka made a sharp gesture to the werewolf. "Akira, you try."

The werewolf cocked his head to the side, one ear folded down. "Try what? Just... touch her? What's that going to do? We already know what happens."

"Just do it, Akira."

Akira shrugged, and reached for Mahiru's hand. He didn't get anywhere near as close as Misoka did before he recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest as if burned.

"Wha- What _is_ that?" Akira gasped. He leaned back, braced as if against a steep incline. He didn't look away from Mahiru.

"What is what?" Nozomu demanded, his patience thin as spider-silk and no-where near as strong.

Misoka turned unblinking eyes on the vampire. "You're the acid test, Nozomu. Reach for her."

He glared at the fox-demon, received an implacable, narrow-eyed stare in return. "We don't have _time_ for this nonsense!" he growled. 'Acid test.' What was _that_ supposed to mean?

Moving with deliberate slowness, Nozomu reached out. He brushed against the warm, smooth skin of her cheek. He sensed Mahiru's living presence, and beyond that, the Moon itself, a cool silvery sheen that wrapped around his heart. Everything felt the same as every other time he'd touched her. Resting his fingertips against the side of her face, he looked up.

"All right, now- -"

The world took an unexpected tilt, like the split-second realization of falling, with no way to stop. And it was a _very_ long way down.

His sense of the Princess began to slip away. The strength of the Moon he felt at her lightest touch also began to drain away, as slowly and inexorably as the ebb tide. _No..._ He looked down in horror, expecting to see the worst. He slid two fingers to the side of her throat, and nearly dropped to his knees in relief. Her pulse beat steady and strong under his fingertips.

"What's happening, something's wrong," he said. Nozomu didn't think of himself as the sort inclined to panic, but he could hear the brittle edge of it in his voice.

"Back away, Nozomu," the fox-demon ordered.

Back away? How could he let go of her now? She was fading from his senses like mist. He couldn't feel the Moon at all now, only the feverish heat of Mahiru's body. He couldn't look away, or withdraw. She appeared to be sleeping. Sleeping, but she felt empty, as if what lay before him now was just a pretty shell, abandoned by its owner. He remembered the flower-strewn waves in his dream and shuddered.

Misoka's hand closed around his wrist, pulling him away from Mahiru. In sheer reflex, he resisted. Misoka gave a sharp tug, forcing him to stumble back from Mahiru's bedside. At once, the near-silent background descant of the waning Moon returned. Not the full glory that came from Mahiru's blessing, but the dimmer, quieter sense he himself had of the Moon.

_She shut out the Moon,_ he realized, staring in amazement.

"How," he breathed, "is that even possible?"

Misoka gestured him to silence, looking to see if they'd disturbed the Princess. "Outside," the fox-demon murmured.

They filed back out of the room, in something akin to shock. Mitsuru straightened up from his slouch, gripping the slats set in the back of the chair.

"What the hell happened?" the _tengu_ demanded.

"Excellent question," Nozomu breathed, turning his attention to Katsura. "I think it's time you answered it."

It was Misoka who answered. Standing with his back to them, the fox-demon appeared to address the sleeping city outside the plate glass window. "It is believed to be mere legend, a scrap of fancy spun off from the tales of the lost Teardrops."

Nozomu waited. "O-_kaaaay_," he prodded, when no further information seemed forthcoming.

"It is recorded only once in all our history- -"

"Can we skip the history lesson and just get to the point already?" Mitsuru demanded.

"History is where the answer lies, Mitsuru." Misoka turned around. He looked weary beyond hope, wasted and haggard, as if he'd aged ten years in the past day.

"All things have their opposite," he continued. "Light is defined by shadow, shadow is held in check by light. We live this great cycle, attuned as we are to the phases of the Moon. The _megumi no tsuki_, which lives in the Princess, is the gift of our most precious light. It is, perhaps, no wonder, that she holds the darkness of the moon as well."

Akira sat up. "Wait a sec! Moondark doesn't feel like that!"

"Feel like what?" Mitsuru frowned, looking from one to the other.

"Huh? Oh, right, you weren't there!" Quickly, Akira caught the _tengu_ up on the strange experience they'd all shared in Mahiru's room. The _tengu_'s reaction was predictable.

"Wait, so she can she take our powers _away_, now?"

"What, Mitsuru, you nervous because you can't push her around without consequences anymore?" Nozomu retorted.

Mitsuru did a double-take at that, an expression that would've been comical under other circumstances. The fit of temper fizzled and died. Nozomu shook his head.

"Look, what difference does it make if she's got a power from legend? She's the Princess, after all. None of this gets her back to us."

"Hey, if she can put out the Moon, maybe we don't need her back. You heard those creeps from Dawn's Venus. They want to 'put out the light of the Moon.' Maybe this is something _they_ did, something they planted on her!"

A chill ran down Nozomu's spine. That... fit better than he wanted to admit. The Venusians had hidden Mahiru from hi- -from _them_, he corrected himself hastily. What better way to do that than by blotting out their source of power?

"Could they really do that?"

Nozomu only realized he'd spoken aloud when everyone turned to look at him. Mitsuru wore his habitual scowl, but he could see the fear the _tengu_ masked behind the anger. _And that probably just makes him angrier._ Nozomu edged a half-step to the side, putting more of himself between the _tengu_ and the door to Mahiru's room. The angrier Mitsuru got, the faster his brain shut down. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he tried something stupid. But he- -_no-one_ else was getting near her. Not while he was still standing.

"The Koudokui draw their power from destruction, using sorcery from other lands. " Misoka had returned to staring out the window.

From his new angle, Nozomu could just make-out the fox-demon's shadowy reflection. He'd heard that _kitsune_ always showed their true forms in reflection, but all the dark glass threw back was a smoked image of Misoka's human form. _Maybe it only works like that with water, or with their women._ It was a dumb thing to think about now, and he kicked the thought aside as soon as Misoka started speaking again.

"They can bestir darkness," Misoka continued, "but their workings are just exaggerated, grotesque mockeries of the natural order. The Princess is a mirror for the heavens, she reflects their power onto her people. The darkness is a part of the celestial order, and so part of her power."

"That's really friggin' poetic, Misoka," Mitsuru snarled. "What the hell does it _mean_?"

"It means the humans could not manufacture this power," Katsura said. She'd knelt down beside one of the other chairs. Traditional dress made sitting in chairs a bit awkward. "What we experienced is called the _kurai no tsuki_, the Lightless Moon. It is the face we never see, the part that is always in darkness."

"Wha-- ?" Akira shook his head. "But Mahiru makes things better. How is it good to be able to use the moon's shadow?"

The dream-demon gave a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The _tsuki no kage_ is the other side of the blessing, the rest that follows the exertion of strength. Most of you are too young to remember, but once we _welcomed_ the dark-of-moon as time of meditation and reflection. Especially for those of us change in keeping with the phases of the Moon, without regard to our own wills, it provided a short time of rest and stillness.""

Nozomu heard something behind Katsura's words, like the tune of a half-remembered lullaby from childhood. Her _words_ described a state of being he had never known, yet his spirit recognized them as a long-lost truth.

"If that's the case, why don't we feel it now during the new moon?" he asked. "Why do we only feel weak?"

Katsura hesitated, glanced at Misoka, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. She turned back to face them.

"We are not what we once were, and not _all_ of the powers of the Moon are granted to all of our people. The gift of the shadow was never a common ability. In all of our recorded history, it appeared only once in the hands of a blessing-bearer, and _she_ died over five hundred years ago."

Akira shook his head so hard his ears flapped. "Wait, that makes no sense! The Tears were stolen a _thousand_ years ago, right? So how could the powers still be there?"

Misoka did not answer. Katsura bowed her head, her hands clasped in her lap. Nozomu slowly straightened up. The pieces began to fall together in his mind, forming a nightmare mosaic. The Tears, lost for a thousand years, the full blessing of the moon, lost over _five hundred_ years ago... the long, desperate search for a Descendant of the Princess...

"We took them," he breathed. "The other Descendants. We took them and used _their _ power in place of the lost Tears."

It made a gruesome kind of sense. The first Princess had been a daughter of the Minister of the Left, the third most powerful position in the Heian era. Even in a time that almost never recorded the true names of noblewomen, how could they have _truly_ lost track of the bloodline- -unless later generations took to hiding their daughters, to protect them from the Lunar Race?

Katsura let her silence serve as her answer. Misoka stood as still as a guardian- stone at an Inari shrine. Nozomu shook his head in disbelief. Mahiru's dreams, the accusations of the Venusians... They all held more truth than any of them had ever imagined.

"Wha--?" Mitsuru twisted his face up into an expression of sour puzzlement. "Why would we kidnap a bunch of stupid human girls?"

"Because," Akira said slowly, his eyes turning huge, "they weren't _all_ human... were they?"

Katsura's hands fisted, crumpling the fine fabric of her kimono. "There is... some evidence that the first Princess bore a demon's child, and so all of her descendants have the blood of our people in them."

"We _kidnapped_--" Nozomu repeated. The thought kept circulating through his mind, an ugly loop he could not break. All those stories about demons stealing, devouring children... had a grain of truth.

"But it's _different_ now," Akira protested. "Mahiru is helping us because she wants to. It's not like that anymore."

"It doesn't change what's been done," Misoka said, his voice low. "Given the level of animosity between our peoples, the fates of those girls could not have been gentle."

"Hey, it's war," Mitsuru reminded. "They stole from us, so shouldn't we take back what's rightfully ours? Those humans shouldn't have had that power anyway! They only had it because that back-stabbing bitch stole our treasure- -"

Nozomu could listen to no more. "That 'back-stabbing bitch,'" Nozomu said, cutting across the _tengu_'s words with considerable satisfaction, "_was_ our treasure."

Misoka shot him a warning look. They hadn't been given leave to speak of this with the others yet- -but Nozomu could _not_ stand by and listen to Mitsuru's ranting. He made a low sound of disgust, pushing himself away from the wall he'd been propping up. The orders from the Moon Palace, attitudes like Mitsuru's... it was as if the Lunar Race was, as the humans put it, determined to shoot themselves in the foot and blame the humans for the mess and the pain.

Nozomu could see Mitsuru's image looming larger as the _tengu_ drew closer. From the determined scowl on the other's face, Nozomu realized he was going to have to spell it out. _Hell, maybe I'll need some crayons and paper, draw him a picture._

"_Only_ the Descendants of the Princess possess the power to give the Moon's blessing- -and only the females. Makes a pretty strong argument that the _first_ Princess had the power too, doesn't it? So why wouldn't a person like that be considered our treasure?"

"Especially by one who loved her," Misoka added in a low voice.

Mitsuru looked from one to the other, shaking his head. "No. It's- -no. The first one played the demons false, this one is no different. The Tears are our treasure, why else would the humans have stolen them? And any demon blood that line had is long gone by now."

"No," Nozomu said matter-of-factly, "it isn't."

The _tengu_ turned on him. "Oh, and you know this how?"

That startled a laugh out of him. "I'm a _vampire_, Mitsuru. She fed me. Figure it out."

"And... she doesn't smell like most humans," Akira added thoughtfully. "I mean, she _does__ smell human, but different." _

___"And it just so happens a pip-squeak like __her_," Mitsuru's reflection jerked his head in the direction of Mahiru's room, "can explain it, huh? I'm not buying it. It's another trap, just like this _kurai_ thing. _You_ say it wasn't planted on her- -what if she was in on it from the beginning? After all, I _had_ two of the those bastards, dead to rights, and she interfered. She let them go!" 

___Nozomu felt his temper begin to slip. Why did __every_ attempt at discussing anything with Mitsuru turn into a verbal brawl? Sometimes, he wondered if the idiot _tengu_ even believed half of the stuff he said, or just took those views for the joy of being contrary. 

___Mitsuru began to pace, building up a full head of steam. "The first time I saw her, the cops were a split second behind her. Same thing with the cruise ship, __and_ the museum! The WPF was a frickin' disaster. Then she 'disappears'--" his voice dripped scorn- - "right under our noses in Kyoto, where our good buddied from the Dawn's Venus just _happen_ to be, _with_ a Teardrop! How much plainer do you need it to get?" 

___"You know what really pisses me off about you, Suou?" Nozomu asked, turning away from the window. "You think you're the only one who's had it rough. You're so damn busy counting up your own miseries, you don't notice anything else." _

___He glowered at the __tengu_. "You think that just because Akira had other family, it hurt any less when _his_ parents died? Or that it cost Misoka, Katsura, and Master _nothing_ to give up the only world they ever knew to come live here? You want to compare notes on being different? Try looking mixed in Osaka--and having parents from different clans. Try being different from your own kind. Even Mahiru had it rough, long before she had _you_ making it worse." 

___"Oh, boo-hoo," Mitsuru sneered. "If the humans suffer, they deserve it. They deserve it all. They're nothing but a bunch of liars and thieves! The first princess __pretended_ to be in love, then she helped kill the guardian and stole the Teardrops! And they thought they'd get away with it. Don't expect _me_ to feel bad because they're finally getting what's coming to them!" 

___"The humans stole our treasure," Misoka corrected. "That's how the story goes, in every variation I've ever studied." _

___"And the Tears are the treasure!" Mitsuru said. "__They're_ what's valuable, not the damn humans!" He glared around the room. "All this yapping about how we 'need' her back. Well, we _have_ the stupid girl, and _I_ think it works better this way! So what if she's got some weird shadow power? We can get around it, and get the power we need. She's got no more way to refuse us than a power-charm. That power was stolen from us, so I say we take it back!" 

___Anger ripped through the last of Nozomu's restraint like dragon's claws through paper. He barely registered Katsura's cry of alarm. Something shattered, a lamp possibly, and the room dropped into murky shadow. No matter... he could see. He flexed his right hand, feeling the talons sprouting from his fingertips. The __tengu_ glared back at him, his eyes as wild as a summer storm. A change like this would last only moments, but that would give him more than enough time to dig those talons into the _tengu_'s stringy throat.

_____Doubting her...after she saved your life, **twice!** And now you threaten her? You think I'm letting you get **away** with that crap?_

___He didn't know if he'd spoken--roared--the words out loud. All he saw was the swirling, mocking spiral of the __tengu_'s storm-eyes. A rising wind tore at his hair, his clothing. Objects tumbled and crashed to the floor. In the background, he could hear the others, crying out. It didn't matter. _This one_ threatened his Princess. He'd failed her once- - but he'd bring her this one's blood in a bowl for his transgression!

_____"Nozomu! STOP!"_

___The words yanked him back, collapsing back into his human form. He'd never head such a tone in Misoka's voice before. The humans called the ____kitsune_ the 'servants of Inari', and at that moment, Nozomu could very well believe Misoka spoke in the name Inari-sama. His skin prickled. What came in the wake of such a voice? What could anyone do, except wait for its next command? 

___Akira had both arms wrapped around Mitsuru, pinning the snarling ____tengu_ to the floor. Akira looked afraid. Misoka drew in breath to speak- -and broke out into a fit of coughing.

___"Misoka!" This time, Nozomu caught the fox-demon as he doubled-over, clutching at his throat. Nozomu could hear the gurgle- rasp that refused to clear, the wheezing of lungs slowly filling with fluid that forced out the precious air. He held the smaller man upright as the spasm tore through him, sure he'd feel Misoka tear apart in his grip._

___Gradually, the spasm eased, and Misoka's breathing grew easier, though Nozomu could still hear the slight hitch whenever he breathed too deeply. He helped Misoka to a chair. The fox-demon's face was flushed pink, his eyes watering. He looked almost as frail as Mahiru. What terrified Nozomu were the tiny dark splotches staining Misoka's lips. Dark, dark red, the color of oxygen-poor blood._

___"You're sick," Nozomu said, his voice numb._

___Misoka just looked at him, his expression weary beyond words._

___Nozomu looked at his own hands, thoughts of contamination of contagion flashing through his mind. Then he looked up at his friend. "How long?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"_

___Katsura brought Misoka a glass of water, which he accepted with soft thanks. He took a few small sips, then looked up._

___"Early stages, yet," Misoka said. "It wasn't serious enough to prevent me from completing our task."_

___"__"Early--_' Misoka, what we just saw what not 'early' anything!"

___Misoka blotted the blood from his lips with his sleeve. "Stress makes attacks worse. Master knows. I can still perform my duties."_

___"Oh, cut the noble act," Mitsuru muttered, squirming out from Akira's hold._

___Misoka's gaze remained calm and steady. "With that, you ask too much of me. I may die before this is done. Yet even a death from illness has honor if I spend my remaining time serving our people and our Princess."_

___"You are seriously messed up," Mitsuru announced. "You're not fit to make decisions like this anymore."_

___"Lord Oboro believes otherwise," Katsura said._

___Nozomu bit back a groan. Damn the __tengu_ and his rotten timing. They needed Mahiru back, needed her whole and well. Instead, they had to deal with Mitsuru's attempt at a _coup d' etat._ So typical... a princess needing rescue, and not a single one of them able to do anything about it.

_____Need_.

___Nozomu straightened so abruptly his spine popped in protest. He stared past his friends. In his mind, the misty outline of a solution began to weave together._

___"__Kanrisha-san_," he said, interrupting Misoka's low-voiced discussion with Katsura. "It doesn't have to be _my_ need that's answered."

___Misoka turned his head, stared at him. Nozomu met his gaze, unflinching. Of them all, perhaps he was the only non-vampire who knew exactly what Nozomu was proposing. _

___"I cannot allow this, Nozomu," Misoka said at last. "She cannot give consent in her present condition. She was entrusted to us. To violate that trust is a stain on our honor that may not be washed away for generations."_

___"I don't believe this!" Mitsuru exploded, throwing his hands up in disgust. "You say our people are dying. That means the rules have changed- -in fact, that means there __are_ no rules. I, for one, am not going to stare at the sky and write poetry and wait to die! If that girl has what we need to survive, I say we take it and to hell with your _bushi_ crap!"

___The fox-demon's preternatural calm shivered, threatening to crack. __"I will not permit it!_"

___Akira instinctively flattened himself against the far wall, making himself as small as possible. Mitsuru paled, but managed something like his old sneer. "And how're you going to stop me, cough blood on me?"_

___The ____kitsune_ did not reach for his power-charm, did not so much as twitch, keeping his gaze locked on the _tengu_. "I am not what I was, wind-weaver. Yet one thing has not changed: I have knowledge you do not, and I will not hesitate to die for the Princess. You, who value strength above all things, cannot match me there. You cannot be stronger if you are dead, so you will always hold back that last bit to save yourself. And that is all I need."

___"Stop it!" Akira had pushed himself away from the wall. "Both of you, just __stop!_ Mahiru is hurt, sick, maybe even-" The young werewolf couldn't bring himself to say the word. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. "Everybody's counting on us, and we're throwing threats at _each other?_" 

___The werewolf's intercession gave all parties the out they needed. Mitsuru __hmph_'d and went to scowl out the window. Misoka sank down onto the chair, his head cradled in his hands. Nozomu had never seen him so weary, so... frail. He crouched down beside him. 

___"__Kanrisha-san_...let Master decide this. The longer we wait... Misoka, I've never done this. The farther away she goes, the greater the chance I won't be able to get her back."

___Misoka remained silent for a long moment, then nodded in acquiescence. "I'll have to head back out to make contact with the Moon Palace, there's nothing here we can use- -"_

___"I have something," Katsura said. "I apologize for interrupting, Misoka. Lord Oboro sent me back with a consecrated mirror so I could inform him of the Princess's condition changed."_

___"That... will save a great deal of time," Misoka said._

___"Then I'll make preparations," Katsura said, bowing her head. _

___Nozomu sat back on his heels. They had less than an hour and a half of Katsura's grace-period left. He hoped Master Oboro was someplace he could receive their message. He hoped he could actually pull off the solution he'd just offered- -if he even got permission to proceed. A lot rode on those hopes. It had been a long while since hope had come through for any of the Moon's people. _

___Maybe too long._

* * *

___They snuck out into the hotel's pocket-sized garden. Choosing the remotest corner, Katsura filled a black marble basin with water she'd brought with her. From a cloth bundle she produced a small silver mirror. She slipped the mirror into the water with such care that the surface of the water barely rippled in response. Once it settled to the bottom, Katsura held her hand flat over the water and closed her eyes. _

___Time inched past. Dream-demons were especially good at using the mirrors to communicate. Of all the Lunar Race, they alone had the most experience with reaching distant minds and crafting image-messages. _

___The surface of the water glowed as if moon-touched, though no moonlight reached this part of the garden. Katsura drew her hand back, pressing it over her heart. Her eyes remained closed. The light rose like a morning mist, swirling in a phantom wind. _

___Gradually, it formed a slender pillar, the light collapsing in on itself, taking a familiar shape. The image before them was not of the middle-aged proprietor of the Moonshine, but the stern, distant figure of a lord of the Silver Horn Clan. That Master Oboro had dropped his seeming meant that he was as alone as it was possible to get at the court. _

___For the sake of keeping the peace- -and silencing the whispers that drove Lord Shirogane to such displays of temper- -Oboro usually wore his human face, a subtle yet constant reminder of his choice. There were those who whispered that, especially now, the Lunar Race needed a stronger hand than a woman-ruled child could provide. _

_____"Katsura." _The image inclined its head. The horns of his rank flashed dimly. _"What is your report?"_

___The dream-demon made a deep obeisance. "Master, I beg forgiveness for bearing ill-tidings. The weavings of the nightmare ensnaring the Descendant of the Princess are complex, and beyond my current strength to untangle, at least not in the time granted to me. She drifts further and further away with every passing hour." _

___The image of Oboro drew back as if the words had the form of a water snake. __"You are certain, Katsura?"_

___Katsura bowed her head even lower. "I have grown weak during my time here, but I can still read the currents of dreams. Yet even if I had more time, I might not be able to reach her." She paused, took a deep breath. "My lord, the gift of the shadow has returned. It watches over her even now. My power fades and my Sight dims if I draw too close. Forgive me for this failure." _

___Master Oboro sighed. __"All that we had hoped for- -appearing in all the wrong ways. There is no fault to be cast on you."_

___"My lord, I fear this shadow is not one time alone can lift. Though its roots are in the natural darkness that follows the Moon, what set it over her heart and spirit is __not_. There is no cycle to measure against, no way to predict how long or how far into the shadow she has passed." 

___Misoka stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "My lord, there remains yet one last option. I am reluctant to present it, though it may indeed be our last hope of restoring the Princess- -and ourselves." _

___The image frowned briefly.__ "Continue."_

___Misoka kept his head bowed. "Nozomu has offered to complete the bonding between himself and the Princess. He says the Princess's need for deliverance fulfills the last requirement. Yet in her present state, the Princess canno give consent." _

___Misoka's dark hair shielded his expression from view. "Lord Oboro, you placed her in our care, and it is you who directs our efforts here. Command us in this matter, and your will shall be done, regardless of consequence to ourselves." _

___The regal figure did not move, but Nozomu felt Oboro's attention settle on him. At once, he went to one knee and bowed his head. Even as a magical projection, Master's stare carried the weight of ages. After a time, their lord spoke. _

___"Nozomu. I have heard and considered Misoka's request. I speak now as the Princess's guardian in our world. You will be allowed to weave the third skein with the Princess, __but- -_" he raised one phantom hand to forestall Nozomu's comment, "- -that is all. Until you make a formal Offering before the Throne of the Moon, the five-fold knot will remain incomplete. 

___"You must first complete the task set to us by the Great Empress. Should you succeed there, then and only then may you consider making your Offering. If you should fail, or if the Emperor- -or the Princess refuses you- -you must abide by these limits." _

___He'd half-expected that, but to hear it proclaimed aloud hit hard. Swallowing his dread, he pressed his head to the ground, acknowledging Oboro's right to set such conditions. Though he had refused the throne, Oboro was still of the Imperial line. And Mahiru... Mahiru was the Princess. _

___If they failed, either in recovering the Tears or in restoring Mahiru... He would be forced to watch as his people sickened, went mad, and died. And when __his_ turn came, he could only look forward to wandering in the bitter darkness between the worlds, banned from the place of his ancestors. He would diminish into a hungry ghost, eternally yearning for the one denied him. Oboro set Nozomu's own soul as Mahiru's bride-price. 

___"You will be watched," Oboro continued. "Accidents such as that which sparked your bonding will not happen again. The threads you've already woven may be sustained, but you may go no further without Offering. Is this understood?" _

___Nozomu lifted his head a fraction so his words would be clear. "Yes, Master." _

___"Then go. Bring our Princess back to us. Complete the task given to you." _

___With a final rippling shimmer, the image of Oboro vanished. Nozomu eased himself up, not all surprised to find he was sweating. Master could be terrifying when he took on his Imperial mantle. He looked over at Misoka and Katsura, who had remained silent during the exchange. _

___"Can you really do this, Nozomu?" the fox-demon asked. _

___"Need is one of the strongest ties. If I can make it set, I can bring her back." _

___"__If _?" Misoka's voice hardened again. 

___"It's not like I can __practice_ this. I've never taken it this far, Misoka. I've never had Opportunity before, either." Nozomu sighed. "And... " 

___He hesitated. This subject just wasn't talked about with outsiders, with those who didn't know the mysteries of blood. Generations of expected silence pressed down on him. _

___"If she rejects __my_ Need," he said, forcing the words out, "it won't take." 

___"Why didn't you mention any of this to Lord Oboro?" Misoka demanded. _

___Nozomu grimaced. "From what he said, I think he already knows." _

___Just for a moment, Misoka's innate __kitsune_ curiosity surfaced. "What are those other threads?" 

___The vampire scowled. "They're __private_." 

___"What will you require to do this, Nozomu?" Katsura asked, firmly steering them back onto the topic at hand. _

___Nozomu glanced up. The window to Mahiru's room gave off a pale glow, as if someone had left a lamp burning. Only keen or knowing eyes would note that the light was paler and clearer than the others streaming out of the occupied roooms. The Teardrop, like a beacon set beside Mahiru, the light they'd hoped would guide her back to them. The light Katsura must soon take away. _

___"Privacy," Nozomu said. _

___"Not possible," Misoka said. _

___Nozomu blinked, not sure if he'd heard right then stared over his shoulder at the fox-demon. "Ex-__cuse_ me?" 

___Misoka remained unperturbed. "As Master said, you will be watched. Since there are, by your own admission, two further stages- -" _

___"Stop right there, Misoka," he warned. "Even __suggesting_- -it's indecent. You don't know what you're saying, what you're accussing me of. Go further, and I won't be able to ignore it." 

___As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd chosen poorly. A consummate flirt, blustering about propriety? The stuff comedies thrived on. He tried again. _

___"Outsiders- -I mean, other witnesses," he corrected hastily, "aren't permitted." _

___Misoka tilted his head to the side, a familiar glint in his eyes. "There is a law against it? A law that supersedes the will of Lord Oboro, second in line for the Imperial throne?" _

___"Misoka," Katsura said, glancing from Nozomu to the fox-demon, "I'm not certain this is what Lord Oboro intended." _

___"I am," Misoka said. "The Master put her in our care." He turned his narrow gaze on Nozomu. "Your track record in these matters is not to your credit. That I must permit this to happen at all treads the line of shame. You will have only what you have been granted, and no more." _

___"Nozomu," Katsura said, keeping her voice low, "if it is only a matter of personal comfort- -" _

___"It is __not_- -" Nozomu stopped himself, drew in a long, shaky breath. 

_____Was_ it just his own pride? A decent vampire loathed being watched while feeding. It disrupted the sense of territory and communion. _Some_ of his folk liked an audience, making it a taunting game to play among humans, but he'd been raised better than that. 

___"This is not how I wanted it," he said at last. "Not even close. You may __think_ I'm taking advantage, but this is _nothing_ like the way it should be." 

___"Just what is going to happen?" _

___Nozomu grimaced. __Damned pointy-nosed voyeur._ "I can't really say." 

___"Nozomu," Misoka warned. _

___He glared. "I'm __not_ dodging the question! I just- - I can't _say_ how it's going to work. You already know the mechanics because you know what I am. It takes a full bite. Yes, I have to be touching her when I do- -" He paused, then glared. "Not like _that! Nothing_ like that is going to happen!" 

___"So what will?" _

___Damned relentless, fixated __kitsune_! He raised his hands, then dropped them to his sides, shaking his head. How could he describe something that had never needed words? 

___"I... I'll be... meeting her, I guess you could say. In the blood. If I can find her. And then- - Ah, damn it, Misoka! It doesn't fit into words! I don't think there's even a song to do it justice." _

___Misoka's eyes widened a fraction and he stepped back. "My apologies for intruding," he said, inclining his head. _

___"Yeah... " Nozomu ran a hand through his hair, glanced up at the window again. _

___"We'd best get back," Katsura said. She'd retrieved the mirror and emptied the basin, holding them now in her arms. _

___Misoka flicked a glance at him and he gave a wary nod. The events of the day were taking their toll. His body yearned for rest, to be fed, to do just about anything except what he was about to ask of it. _

_____Let me find her,_ he thought, as they rode the elevator up to their floor. _Let her accept me. Allow me to bring her back to us, whole and well._

___Back at their rooms, they found Akira and Mitsuru making serious inroads in an enormous platter of food from room service. Akira saw them and perked up. _

___"Hey, how'd it go?" he asked, handing Nozomu a cup of tea. _

___"Master has approved of our plan. Nozomu will attempt to recover the Princess," Misoka announced. He looked with puzzlement at the array of food. "Were we really gone that long?" _

_____Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Misoka._ He took the offered cup in reflex, managing not to grimace at the sharp smell rising with the steam. He didn't always tolerate black tea well, but it was Akira's favorite. 

___"Uh, no... " Akira looked abashed. "I just got hungry, and I grabbed the menu, and- -" _

___"Ordered just about everything," Mitsuru finished, polishing off what looked like curry. _

___"I took some tea in to Mahiru," Akira defended. _

___"Did she drink it?" Misoka asked. _

___The werewolf's ears drooped. "Ah... no." _

___"It's not a surprise," Misoka sighed. He looked at Nozomu. "Now it's up to you. Prepare yourself." _

___"For what?" Akira asked. _

___Nozomu checked a sigh. Akira curiosity could be worse than a __kitsune_'s, but he was so damn cheerful and bouncy about it, you couldn't be mad at him. For longer than a couple of seconds. Mitsuru swatted Akira between the ears. 

___"Weren't you listening? Fangs is going to do something that'll wake that girl up." _

___"Wow, really?" Akira's eyes went impossibly huge. "I didn't know vampires could do stuff like that!" _

___Nozomu sipped the bitter tea, remembered why it used to be considered medicine. "It's rare," he said, not looking around. _

___"Will you need anything, Nozomu?" Misoka asked. He still looked pale. _

___Nozomu heard the unspoken question: __'Can you do this?'_ He closed his eyes. The longer they delayed, the further Mahiru drifted away. _We have no more time._ Night was the province of the vampire. The Moon rode high overhead, waxing in light, giving its children strength. It was as good as it was going to get. 

___He set his all-but untouched tea cup down. "I just need to get cleaned up." _

___-tbc-_

* * *

___Chapter title, if my half-remembered Spanish can be trusted, means "Shadow of the Moon." _

___According to Japanese mythology, the fox-god Inari often used foxes or __kitsune_ (usually women) to carry messages for him.


	9. Mare Crisium

Disclaimers: see part one.  
Mood music: _Run to the Water_ (Live)  
AN: Surreality ahead!

**Sublunary 9: Mare Crisium**

Akira sat watching him, a worried frown on his face. "Hey, Nozomu... What're you going to do if she does that shadow-moon thing again?" 

No-one else said anything, but he could feel their attention sharpening, the oh-so subtle way they leaned in to listen. He spared a humorless grin. "The Moon doesn't keep me from feeding, Akira. It doesn't stop me being a vampire, no matter the phase."

"I get that, but- -" Akira waved his hands in vague circles. "You're gonna be doing something... more than that. Right?"

_It's an innocent question,_ Nozomu reminded himself, even as his jaw muscles tightened. _And it's Akira. He doesn't _get_ stuff like this._

"On the new moon," he said, "do you stop smelling things? Hearing better than others?"

"Huh? No, I- -oh. Okay. I get it. Sort of. But - -"

"A-_ki-_ra. Enough, already." He brushed aside further queries and went into the washroom. He locked the door and told himself he wasn't hiding from the others.

He'd told Akira the truth- -mostly. The ___tsuki no kage_ wouldn't keep him from feeding. _Many_ vampires found their hunger strongest at the new moon. Moon-dark couldn't even blind him to the ties already between himself and Mahiru. It _could_ confuse his senses, though. If she wrapped herself in the moon's shadow, his search would turn into a bizarre version of 'hot and cold,' without a referee.

The moon's shadow had affected him the least, though. He'd actually touched her for a moment before it threw him back. He had to believe she'd recognize him, that somewhere, she waited for him.

He ran the water as hot as the taps would allow. _Bloodwarm_, humans called it, as if they even knew. His hands trembled a little as he held them under the running water. A bonding for Need was the second-most ritualized tie in the five-fold knot. He had very little in the way of proper materials here- -he didn't even have Mahiru's consent. Bad omen.

_Stop it,_ he told himself, flicking some water at the mirror above the sink to turn back ill-luck.

If he could not have proper ritual and privacy, he could at least go to her clean. He looked down at himself, noting his wrinkled, dirty clothing. They'd been in contact with wasted blood. Little flecks and spatters marred the fabric. Not a true pollutant as his kind saw things, but it wasn't respectful, even if the blood was hers. Perhaps _especially_ because it was hers.

He stripped down with the quick efficiency of a stage performer. He couldn't take time for a proper shower, and he certainly didn't have the time to go searching for a body of clean, open water to immerse himself in. Rushed, too rushed, he thought.

The rituals survived for a reason. There was some leeway for personal preference and adaptation, but certain forms _had_ to be obeyed. If he were a traditionalist, he'd have fasted for three days, keeping himself isolated from all contact. The idea was to express humility. Need should be about the inter-dependence of sentient creatures.

It wasn't supposed to be about desperation.

To petition a donor to fulfill a Need, one _usually_ wore a plain gray cotton kimono and went barefoot. The vampire-women wore their hair down, free of any ornaments or scented oils. The males did the same, or had, when longer hair had been fashionable. The vampire went bare-faced, carrying nothing to hide the eyes or facial expression. Need was not about seduction or enticement, and all the props and trinkets associated with those acts were forbidden.

He wasn't prepared. He had nothing that tradition demanded for this petition. _Will it even work, straying so far from the forms?_ he wondered. No mechanic worth the name ever expected a quick jury-rig to do the work of a proper repair. _But I'm out of options._ All he could do was make himself as presentable as possible.

_The first was Opportunity_, he reminded himself, drying his face and hands. _The Blood of Blessing_. All other weavings spun out from that core. He had to believe that. If he let his doubts master him, he would never find Mahiru again. A failed quest for Need could not be repeated while the other ties still held strong, and his people might not live long enough- -_he_ might not live long enough to start afresh.

The only clothes he had with him were plain, serviceable street-clothes. He'd packed for a tour of Kyoto, to blend in among high schoolers, not- - He shied away from the thought, then forced himself to finish it dead-on: Not as a suitor paying court to his bride-to-be.

He combed his fingers through his thick blond hair. He remembered the shy way her fingers had curled into his hair, and shivered. This time, he didn't try to restrain the feeling, or his reaction. The more he felt now, the stronger the call he could send after her. What he felt and thought would have to make up for the lack of proper ritual and preparation. He'd have to find a way to _make_ it work.

All of their hope hung suspended on this third skein he was about to attempt. Could it hold the weight of his world? Could it hold hers?

He opened the door and stepped out. At once, he found himself the focus of everyone's stare. Under normal circumstances, he liked being watched. It made for one more line he could cast into the sea of humanity, one more lure to draw in the donors he needed. This time, however, he resented those watchful eyes. He wanted only one person to see him now, and she was not there.

He started for Mahiru's room, speaking to no-one. Footsteps, muffled by the room's carpeting, followed after him. He didn't look back, but by the light, quick sound, accompanied by the soft whisk of a silken hem over the carpet, Katsura was right behind him. Just beyond those, he marked Misoka's firm, measured steps. Akira shuffled along the side, following the group but not comfortable about it. Mitsuru scuffed along at the very rear. _He even walks obnoxiously_, Nozomu thought in tired amusement.

He rested his hand against the door. _Forgive me, if you can,_ he thought to his sleeping princess. He tried not think about what his father would say about this. His mother... His mother would turn away and raise her fan, never allowing her own son to see her face again. Necessity had made him a thief, taking back the gems to save his people. He had never stolen blood- -before now. Master's permission put a glaze of acceptability over the act- -but few of his own folk would see it that way.

To steal the blood of the _Princess_...

Misoka had accused him of the very crime he was about to commit. _Either that damn fox is prescient along with all his other talents, or things really do turn along an endless wheel._ He wasn't sure which option was the most alarming. He shook the distracting thoughts away and opened the connecting door. He took one step over the threshold, then stilled.

The drapes had not been drawn, and the last of the moonlight spilled in. It washed across the floor, onto Mahiru's bed. The white linens reflected the light, as if they'd been woven from moonbeams. The Tear, resting on the table on its bed of silken gauze, shone like Chang-o's lamp.

"Look at her," he breathed.

The mingled lights bathed Mahiru in their brilliance, giving her the look of a snow-maiden's child, cradled in the snowy wings of some heavenly beast. Unearthly, she seemed, yet sublimely human. And he thought he could weave a net to snare such a creature?

He paced forward, making a wide circle around the bed, not wanting to stain it with his shadow. He hesitated a moment, then settled beside her, perched on the very edge of the bed. From the corner of his eye, he saw the others bunched in a group by the door. Only Katsura lowered her eyes.

"What're we doing here?" Akira asked in a stage whisper.

Nozomu gritted his teeth. Prying eyes. Noise. All they needed now was for the damn phone to ring, or the fire alarm to go off, and the entire plan would collapse.

"Witnessing," Misoka answered, just a breath of sound. "Be still."

With great deliberation, he rolled up his left sleeve, baring most of his left forearm. Seeing the neat white gauze taped around her right wrist, he hesitated.

"This needs to be removed. And... one of the others."

"May this one offer aid?" Katsura asked. She'd switched over to formal speech, humbling herself in this place where both their Princess and a Tear of the Moon rested. She might not know the exact nature of the ritual about to be attempted here, but one could never hide such intensity from a dream-demon.

He didn't want anyone else near Mahiru, near them- - but Katsura could remove the bandages with as little pain as possible to Mahiru. He nodded, keeping his attention fixed on Mahiru's face. Katsura approached on near-silent feet. From the corner of his eye, he saw Katsura's slender fingers slide a blunt-nosed pair of paramedic's scissors under the gauze and trim it away. The inside of the bandage bore faint red streaks.

Nozomu pressed his lips together, feeling his fangs lengthen at even that small glimpse. _Wasted_. Not through injury or natural cause, but through malicious intent. He meant to make Koudokui account for every wasted drop. One day, one night, that miserable excuse of a human would learn what it mean to gain the anger of the Moon's Children.

"May this one continue?"

"Yes..." He felt the tension level spike as the others noted his change of voice as he hoovered at the very edge of a transformation. He brushed a fingertip against the bandage around Mahiru's throat. "This one, as well."

A prickly silence filled the room. He could feel the gazes of the others grow sharper, more questioning.

"It's required," he snapped, harsher than he meant to be. Bitterness twisted his next words. "And if I look like I'm turning into a beast, well, isn't a good thing you're all here to save her."

_They shouldn't _be_ here_, he thought, his free hand fisted against his knee. _They shouldn't be seeing this!_ Need left very specific marks, impossible to hide. That didn't mean a gaggle of outsiders should be gawking over his shoulder as he made them!

Without another word, Katsura removed the bandage and withdrew. He should thank her, he knew, show her the same courtesy and grace she displayed. He just couldn't get the feel of those _eyes_ off his back. A vampire who needed outside help to make a five-fold knot wasn't fit to weave the ties.

"Nozomu." Disapproval turned Misoka's voice cool. "We will only interfere if it appears that the Princess is endangered. But we have little time."

"I know."

His awareness of Mahiru's injuries throbbed like a fresh bruise. He touched the side of her face, running his fingertips over the soft skin. _You needed me to rescue you,_ he thought, watching her. _I swear, I will find you, or I will not return. The darkness is no place for you, not alone._

His vow set, he reached across her body, to where her hand lay atop the blankets. He waited a moment. His sense of the Moon, of Mahiru herself, remained undiminished. Not even a flicker of the shadow rose between them. Nozomu waited the space of a breath, then another.

It seemed she wasn't going to fight him. Nozomu gripped her forearm. It reminded him of how he'd grabbed for her the night Mitsuru's winds had knocked her from the roof. He'd reached out to save her then, too. With great care, he adjusted his grip until their wrists touched, pulsepoint to pulsepoint. The feel of raw skin from the rope burns made him twitch, anger threatening to smash his concentration.

_Focus,_ Nozomu told himself._ You get one shot at this. One chance to find her, and save her._ Just like on the rooftop. He closed his eyes, forced aside all knowledge of those watching. One by one, the distractions fell away, until he could sense her heartbeat through his skin.

Slow and steady, like the rise and fall of the sea. The Moon had a heartbeat too, he realized. Its blood ran in the tides that swept through the seas. Deep in the sea, creatures swam, following that pulse. Whales and dolphins, all the sleek, mysterious creatures she loved. All creatures that called out to her.

Nozomu slid his free hand under her neck, raising her head. Her throat arched in a smooth, clean curve, uncluttered by jewelry. Her soft hair tangled around his fingers. He forced himself to focus on her- -on _their-_ -heartbeat.

_Need_. For blood, for the salvation she represented, for the sheer joy of their treasure returning to her rightful place. Because she needed rescue, because hatred's fangs bit deeper than any vampire's. Because she was a creature of the Sun, of the life-giving sea, and she did not belong in darkness. _Need_. Though he walked beneath the Sun, he was still born from darkness, a darkness that worshipped and adored light. _He_ needed _her_, or all lights would fade to gray.

He cradled her in one arm and bit deeper than he had ever dared, shearing through flesh and the pulsing vein. Need had no delicacy, no finesse. Someone, somewhere in the room, made a small sound, a cross between a gasp and a whimper. Mahiru? Himself? Then the blood welled up under his lips, and everything else fell away.

Every instinct he hid behind his shiny playboy veneer burst free. He could taste the shadow in her now, a kind of rich smoky aftertaste, like the faint scent of fine spice powder. The Moon's eternal shadow, the current that ran below still-seeming water.

Thin red lines danced in his inner vision, glittering like strands of rubies. They stretched out, anchor lines for an internal web. Lines that would lead him to Mahiru.

He touched one, intending only to gauge its strength- - and got sucked in.

* * *

Darkness. Absolute darkness. Darkness of the place between the stars, of places that never knew light. Darkness that lurked in the depth of every living soul. The abyssal darkness of the Void. 

_This is where I am, now. Where I belong._

Mahiru's voice, as raw as her wounds, swirled around him. Nozomu had no sense of direction in this place. He lingered here as a thought-form in Mahiru's mind, granted admission by the ties between them, but he was _not_ a welcome visitor.

_This is where you left me. This is all I have left. You took all the light out of my world!_

Nozomu struggled to find his voice- -no, he couldn't speak here, this wasn't a physical place. This was inside Mahiru's mind, in the shadow roused by Koudokui's spells. He shaped his thoughts with care. The darkness felt hot, smothering, a velvet pillow pressed over a sleeping face.

_"Mahiru-chan...we never meant for this!"_

Something in the darkness shifted, something distinctly unfriendly. _Whatever you meant, this is what's left. You- -all of you!- -take what you want and leave! You left me! You all left me!_

He heard the sickening screech of tires, of metal crumpling like paper. A softer sound, a child sobbing in endless heartbreak. The sly, snickering sounds of _things_ that lived in the dark. Lived, waiting for just the right bite-size snack to come into reach...

_She'll go mad if I can't find her- -if she isn't already!_ He saw no images here. An eerie cacophony of words and sounds whirled around him, offering no direction. Terrible sounds: shattering glass, the meaty sound of human bodies hitting the ground with deadly force and speed. A screaming wind, ugly whispers rasping just beneath it.

Absolute despair dragged at him, heavier than the darkness that had swallowed Mahiru. How could he find in this? After a whole _day_ of this, was there anything left of Mahiru to find?

_Something_ rolled in like a giant wave, like the steady rhythms Akira used to tie all their voices together. The darkness lightened the minutest fraction. Somewhere, Mahiru was still fighting.

'_Like a whale...'_

Nozomu listened, straining after that tiny sound, soft in all the clamor.

_'Like a dolphin...'_

Now that he knew what to listen for, he heard it all: the memory of music, the invocation of the great sea. A defensive song, wearing thin, as the singer's strength faded. She called, and he gave himself over to answer.

In his mind, he formed the image of a bottlenose dolphin, breaching. The spray of sea water scattered a liquid prism-burst in the sun. Dancing rainbows, faint and shivery as the ones cast by the Tear, like the one mirrored in his name. The sea, the rainbow, the watchful vigilance due one who was the true treasure of the Moon's People, the brilliance of the Moon that claimed her... All those things, captured in his name and reflected in her.

_Mahiru-chan,_ he called, and in calling for her, he called for the other part of himself. _Come back to me. Come back and take what is yours._

Deep in the darkness, he saw a glint of gold, like the glimmer of a sunbeam seen through a crack in tumbled rocks. He gave a fleeting thought to the others standing by, then dove deep into the smothering darkness.

_Mahiru... if you can hear me, answer!_

_-tbc-

* * *

Oceanus Procellarum: _Actual name of a crater on the Moon. It means 'Sea of Storms'.  
_Chang-O:_ the Chinese Moon Goddess, the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. There are many variations of her legend, including one that Matsuda-sensei may have used as a reference for the origin of Katsura's name.

The lyric fragments are, of course, from _Paleozoic of the Flesh_, the song Mahiru used to escape the influence of Koudokui's magic.


	10. Midnight Equilibrium

Disclaimer: see part one

A/N: This turned into one of those giant chapters, so it's been cut up into chunks. Forgive me for where the break is here, but there was no place else that fit. Please remember I hand-code everything.

:eyes text: Is it me, or is this chapter more like something out of _Serial Experiments: Lain_? Surreality abounds.

Mood Music (mostly repeats this time!): _Paleozoic of the Flesh_ (J.A. Seazer), _The Sacred Moon_ (Life Threads, OST), _Path With a Heart_ (Sacred Spirit Drums)

Sublunary: Midnight Equilibrium

_My eternal self  
The eternal stranger_  
--"Last Evolution," J.A. Seazer

In one of her literature electives, she'd come across the phrase, 'blasted heath.' While she still wasn't entirely sure what that meant, she thought the landscape around her now might be pretty close. The sky above her had the same leaden pall of a winter twilight, curving over a bleak husk of a land. No sun, no moon in that sky above, not even a single star. Mahiru drew her knees up to her chest. For some reason, she was wearing her school uniform, but her feet were bare.

_Are these the Dark Lands?_ she wondered. Had she died trying to escape the Venusians? She couldn't remember crossing the Sanzu, but maybe the dead didn' remember their own passage.

Did it matter?

Mahiru crossed her wrists, hugging herself tighter, wriggled her bare toes, to see if she still could. Everything moved, from her limbs, to the thoughts whirling in her head. She just lacked the will to direct any of them anywhere.

She felt pretty solid for a dead person. Weren't the dead supposed to join the ancestors in watching over the rest of the family? If so, why was she alone? Was what she' done so terrible that her own ancestors had cast her out? She looked around. This didn' look like any depiction of a Buddhist hell that she' ever heard of--but she'd be the first to admit she didn't exactly pay much attention to those things. Maybe she'd gotten lost somewhere between the worlds. That sounded more like the way _her_ luck would play out.

How long would it take for the memory of her body to fade, until she drifted away like smoke in an empty room? Did time even matter here -wherever _here_ was? She caught herself humming _that_ song again. It kept fluttering through her mind, a ragged, tattered banner of a lost war. _'Continuing to live, continuing to die/ the Paleozoic tells the story.'_

_I_Mahiru closed her eyes. Even she herself had no color here, painted in drab, faded blues and grays. All the colors of a midnight child, she thought. _'Midnight is a place.'_ She couldn't remember where she'd heard that, but if it was true, then this place was the home of the midnight children. She blended in perfectly here. Nothing about her stood out, drew attention, caused problems or fault.

Dead boring, too, but at least she wasn't hurting anyone.

Still, if this was all true... why did it feel... wrong, like a too-big shirt ? Keeping her eyes closed, Mahiru shook her head. No, no questions! Existing for a moment, questions didn't have a chance to cause pain. She just had to avoid questions until the moment passed, ignore the empty place where answers should be.

Something glinted in the distance. Mahiru blinked, sat up straighter. What _was_ that? She rubbed her eyes, looked again.

Yes, that was a light on the blurred horizon, a single clean glimmer of light in a place of drabness. Like a star, she thought, then shivered. Venus shone on the horizon, the Morning Star. had _they_ found her, followed her even here? She'd thought the deep sea had washed away all trace of her. The starless dark had swallowed her whole, hiding her even from Himura's gift of Sight.

Hadn't it?

The light began to move. Mahiru stood up. Bits of stone and brittle grass poked at her bare feet. This barren land offered no hiding places. She'd run right to the edge of the world. There was no place else to go.

The light grew brighter as it drew closer, steadying into an even glow. Mahiru could just make out the shape of the person holding it. The person appeared to be about Mahiru's height, but... _wider_, if she could be impolite, even in her own thoughts. As the distance closed, she saw the bulk actually came from layer upon layer of silk robes.

Mahiru stared. She' only seen _pictures_ of clothing like that, or elaborately dressed dolls in glass cases. From the way the sleeves and mantle fluttered, she could see the material was actually quite thin, but layered in a myriad of colors and patterns that jolted her modern sense of color coordination. _Kinda gaudy, actually. And walking in that... it's gotta be like trying walk in a stuffed sack!_

The figure wore what looked like _hakama_ about two sizes too big, the material bunched up around the ankles and over the instep. The layers of robes added considerable girth. The light welled up from the figure's cupped hands, but no matter how Mahiru squinted, she couldn't make out the shape of a lantern, or even a candle. The light itself was silvery-while, with the faintest shimmer of color at the edges, utterly unlike any lamplight she'd ever seen. _What is that?_

The figure stopped about an arm's length away from Mahiru. The light, as bright as a lighthouse beacon, dimmed and softened until she could see the face of her visitor.

"I wondered if you might come here," the visitor said to Mahiru. "I was hoping I was wrong."

Shocked, Mahiru looked up and met her own eyes. Mahiru's own face looked down at her. _My hair's not that long, though_ she thought stupidly, noting how the other's hair streamed almost to her heels. _And... do I really look that sad all the time? She looks like she's forgotten how to smile._

"Who- -what do you mean?" she stammered. "Who are you?"

"I'm you, of course," her ancient reflection replied. The light she carried reflected in her eyes, giving them an inhuman gleam. "I'm the part of you that's come down through the story."

Mahiru stared, even though the brilliant light made her eyes water and stream. _Part of me? That makes no sense. I'm nobody. It's the Princess who moves from dream to dream, the first one, the daughter of the Minister of the Left..._

Yume-hime had appeared in clothes similar, but not exactly like, the garments the figure before her wore. Yume-hime's appearance never changed. She never looked like Mahiru, or anyone else. Could this be another dream? Was she still alive after all? Or was she _inside_ the dream, now? The prayer-song she'd used spoke of the era that told the story. When she'd called the secret sea, had it transported her away?

"Wait... If you're me, what're you doing over there?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be here?" Mahiru pointed at her own heart. "What's going on here?"

"Where I am and what happens next all depends on what you do."

Mahiru groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. This was like trying to get a straight answer out of Misoka, or Master Oboro. _That settles that... I have to be alive. Being dead can't possibly be this annoying!_

"Don' any of you _get it_? I don' _know_ what to do! Everyone- -the people at the shop, Keiko and all of them- -they all act like this is all stuff I should _know_, like I took some kind of elective on how to be a princess and save the world! And no-one _tells_ me anything! 'Trust us,' they say. Then they go right around and start talking about my _role_ and how important it is, but not _what_ it is!"

Mahiru found herself gasping for breath, huge gulps of air just this side of sobs. She could feel her cheeks burning, the kind of splotchy heat that came after a long, jagged cry that left you feeling worse than before.

"I tried," she said in a quieter voice, "I tried so hard to fix things and all I did was make everything fall apart faster."

Her reflection knelt down before her, the layers of silk fanning out like a hand of cards. "Maybe you tried to fix the wrong things."

"Wrong? I know that stealing is wrong, and the lying, and hurting people- -but that's what I wanted to stop! I wanted to help get the Tears back, so people would stop getting sick and stop being angry and stop _hating_!"

"Mahiru." The voice cut across her own rising hysteria. "Those are all good _intentions_ and _motivations_. The question is, what have you done?"

Mahiru stared, jaw slack. No air, no words, no answer. Dimly, she heard a faint choking sound, wondered if it came from herself. What had she _done_?

Mitsuru... would he have died that night if she hadn't made such a fuss? _("Stop making those pathetic faces!")_ Would Dawn's Venus have found the others if she hadn't been so stupidly careless around Himura? _("I went back and took a look at the books...")_ The suffering the others endured from the trap at the WPF, the fire, the destruction of property. _("Stop coddling her, Nozomu! You heard them, it's war!")_ The sculptor's widow, who had to endure the vandalization of her late husband's masterwork, the people from the dinner cruise, the cop who thought he' killed a kid.

She gave a choked sob and covered her face with her hands. _This_ was how she tried to fix things? And she was the supposed storehouse of good luck? What a joke! What a sick, twisted, pitiful joke. And it was her life, and all her fault.

Descendant of the Princess. Descendant of the story. Mahiru folded herself to her knees, hugging herself tightly.

"What am I supposed to do? This isn't making any sense! How can you be me, how can I be what you say? There's only one princess and it isn't me!"

"If it isn't you--isn't _us_, it can't be anyone else."

"I don't sound like that," Mahiru said numbly. "I don't talk like that, who talks like that? You can't be me."

"The first Princess is dead. She has been lingering in the dark places between the worlds, waiting, praying for one of her descendants to finish the task she tried so hard to complete. For over a thousand years, she has been waiting- -and because _he_ loves her, he has remained with her in that darkness. Neither of them can go further, to rest or new life, until this is done. And only the daughters of her line have the power to make her dream a reality."

_Just what I needed. More pressure. But it's not my problem anymore._

"So that's it?" her other-self asked. "It all just ends here? We walk away, or fade away, and- -"

Mahiru started. She hadn' spoken that aloud, but the other reacted just as if she had. Reading her mind, like Misoka seemed to at times? Or... was this strange image really a part of her, already living somewhere inside Mahiru's mind?

The other's hands began to open. For the first time, Mahiru saw what gave off the strange light. She began to shake. She'd seen that crystal before, the round, iridescent sphere of translucent white, the glittering gem she'd seen smash against stone in a dream from a thousand years ago. The Tear of the Moon began to slip from the other's hands.

Mahiru lunged forward, reaching out. The gem dropped into her hand, surprisingly heavy for its size. It fit in her palm, the size of a tiny pear and roughly the same shape. At her touch, it began to shine again.

"Is this- - Is this it? The whole thing? Is it over?"

The other placed her hands over Mahiru's. She could feel the brush of the layered cuffs, the smoothness of the silk trim and the scratchy embroidery. _Those robes must be as heavy as the Tear!_ Light glowed through their fingers.

"And if it was complete? What should be done with it?"

"Give it back to the Lunar Race!" Mahiru said promptly.

"Give it away? All this power?"

Mahiru froze. This... creature across from her couldn't be a part of her. She didn't think like that. She looked the other in the face, expecting to see something like the expression Mitsuru wore when _he_ spoke of the power of the Tears. The other just looked back at her, eyes calm, even a little sad.

"It's not my power," Mahiru said. "It belongs to them. They'll die without it."

"Dying for power is what began all this. If this power, luck, blessing, whatever you want to call it, if it's not ours," her doppleganger said, touching the inside of Mahiru's wrist, "then why is it inside us? Why did Oboro _ask_ for the power _we_ possess? Why did _he_ say it was ours? Why could we do the things we did, before we even knew the Tears existed?"

Mahiru shook her head at the barrage of questions. Was this another trick by Dawn's Venus, something on the other side of Koudokui's shadows? _Wait, she used Master Oboro's name... I've never mentioned it at school, so there's no way Himura could have learned it and passed it on. The only name Dawn's Venus knows is mine._

"Why are you asking me these things? If you're the part of me from the story, you should know the truth."

The other smiled. "But I _do_ know the truth. I do know the answer. I've always known. And because I am you, you know these things, too."

"I've _tried_ to find an answer!" Mahiru tightened her grip on the crystal. It felt colder than ice, so cold the bones in her hands ached. "There's nothing! The song, the story, none of it fits!"

"One way or another, we are the end of the story. We _are_ the answer, but people have forgotten the question."

The other's hands slipped out from under her own, leaving the crystal in Mahiru's hands. Her doppleganger stood, the layers of her robes rustling like wind-blown winds. "To get to where you want to go, you have to watch where you're going."

The light flared again. The silks and brocades the other wore reflected the light, until it seemed the light erased her. She vanished, without so much a stir of air to show where she'd been. The crystal shivered, then collapsed itself, like a giant water droplet losing cohesion. She smelled the heavy, briny scent of the sea.

Mahiru stared at her hands. The Tears weren't the power? Fixing the wrong things? Questions? She' had nothing _but_ questions since this whole thing began! Mahiru felt dizzy, as if she'd been underwater too long. She wasn't smart like Misoka, or clever like Nozomu or Mitsuru, nor wise like Katsura or Master Oboro. How was _she_ supposed to figure this out?

The powers of the Lunar Race... her own power. This so-called power had never worked _for_ her, only for others. Except... when she'd called the secret sea, the deep sea that had hidden her away. The Lunar Race called her power 'luck,' as did the humans who took it. Misoka and Oboro also called a 'blessing.' What was the connection? What wasn't she seeing?

_"Places like this used to be a gathering place between humans and the Lunar Race. Some even worshipped us, like gods or guardian spirits."_

_"A place of refreshment and joy."_

Mahiru opened her eyes. _And Nozomu..._

_"If you ever need anything, give a yell and I'll come running."_ His earlier kindness could have been a sham. All of their pretty words, could have been a lie. But, if Koudokui's hateful words had held some truth in their lies, couldn't theirs do the same?

A quick-fix, like the one she'd been trying, retrieving the Tears, talking to the Venusians like years of hatred were just an innocent misunderstanding, a simple miscommunication, never worked. They were like riptides, currents below the surface that brought danger, not restoration. Children of the Sun,' is what Master Oboro called the human race. Both the Sun and the Moon drew the tides, a constant measured push-pull that brought change- -but slowly, in a natural way.

Hope stirred inside her, a trembling flower raising its head- -

_Sheet metal tore like thick paper, safety glass rattling down like hail. Blood and scorched rubber, acrid, throat-skinning smoke... Familiar figures in unfamiliar positions that never moved, no matter how she screamed and cried out to them, who never moved even after they lay neat and straight, their faces covered by white cloth. Shadows drew closer, sharks circling, smelling blood, shadows with razor-teeth and a sense of evil, cloying satisfaction..._

Mahiru clutched her head, as if she could wring the images out. _What have I done? I killed my parents!_ She wasn't unlucky, she realized. She was _cursed_

Everything had turned against her: her own kind, in the form of Himura and the Venusians. Her so-called power, that gave tiny amounts of good for gallons of bad. Her hands dropped into her lap. _I don't deserve to leave this place._

"Mahiru!"

She looked up. There... in the space between herself and the not-horizon: a human-shaped figure... _in color_. Brilliant, eye-catching, jewel-plume color. She couldn't look away, wasn't sure she was breathing. _Nozomu_.

-tbc-


End file.
